The Heart Thief
by Mornight
Summary: A madman is stealing organs from the people of Seyda Neen in the dead of night. Nobody knows how. Nobody knows why. And nobody knows who is going to be next. Femslash. OC.
1. Chapter 1

"Yes, we're definitely going to have to operate on this one," the Imperial healer says, running his fingers over the long mound of scar tissue down Volmer's left side.

The Dunmer rolls his eyes.

"Loretta, fetch me one of those broadswords and a glass of wine."

The eyes of the nearby nurse perform a similar action.

The healer slaps Volmer's bare, azure shoulder in an overly jovial manner. "We'll get you all fixed up in no time."

They've been at this for over twenty minutes now. Dion, the Imperial Cult healer, says something alluding to having to operate on the Dunmer fisherman sitting on the table, and the Dunmer freaks out. Fortunately, Volmer no longer bites. I had to bring the guy to the one healer in the world he happens to be good friends with. How in Oblivion does a healer and a fisherman become best buddies? A healer from the Vivec Foreign Quarter, no less, far from his little home in Seyda Neen.

"Please," I say finally, letting my annoyance colour the word only somewhat. I will grant that the repartee has been amusing, and Volmer definitely benefits from the distraction right now. I do not wish to appear callous. "What is your diagnosis?"

The healer assumes a thoughtful pose, and, as he does, I realise I am holding my breath, anxious to hear his opinion.

"Without doubt a surgical scar," he says finally. "And you say this has happened to many in recent weeks?"

Volmer replaces his shirt, covering the raised and rippled chunk of skin upon his waist.

I nod. "Five incidents now, all reporting the same symptoms: waking up feeling weak and woozy, and with a scar somewhere on their bodies."

"Hmm." The healer paces slowly, his chin firmly inside his thumb and index fingers. "Knight Errant Caecilia," he says, his deep voice taking on an officious tone. "I would speak with you in private." He gestures toward the door to his private office down the hall.

I turn to Volmer and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Will you be okay?"

He waves me away. "It's fine, Ithaca. I will be alright."

The large man closes the door once we are inside. He does so gently, with a measure of care that tells me that, whatever news he is about to deliver this female Knight, little of it is good.

"Volmer lost a kidney last night." He delivers the news without cushion, something about which I am not sure I should be grateful or irritated. His earlier mirth is now gone.

I steady myself on the table with a shaky hand, a wave of lightheadedness washing over me. Thankfully, I do not believe the healer notices my disquiet. "How can you be sure?"

"The location and appearance of the incision can suggest little else," he says, his face taking on a certain menacing quality in the dim light emitted by the sole candle nearby. "Where were the scars on the other victims located?"

I shudder having to think back upon it, knowing what I do now. "Two had marks near their hearts, another on the other side of the chest. The final two bore blemishes on their stomachs."

"I see." The healer places his hands into the pockets of his robe and leans against a stone wall. "All ingress points to organs that can be safely transplanted without harming the donor…"

"What does that mean?" I ask. "Are you talking about the transplantation of organs? I heard something about that recently."

"It's a new area of science," the man says. He pushes off the wall, seats himself at his desk, and begins looking through the drawers. "Some particularly skilled healers over in Cyrodiil recently transplanted a portion of someone's liver into a patient with chronic liver failure, actually. That person has resumed his life as normal now. Fascinating stuff. I believe I still have the newspaper article around here somewhere..."

"Cutting out parts of people and shoving them inside others." I scoff. "'Fascinating' is not the world I would use, Dion."

The healer frowns and abandons his quest to locate the paper. "Yes, well, the benefits are obvious. The list of things that we are able to transplant grows, and the list of illnesses we are able to cure as a result along with it."

Crossing my legs as much as my heavy, golden Templar armour will allow, it comes my turn to assume a thinking position. "Do you think that's why this is happening? Some freak is stealing organs from the people of Seyda Neen to cure some kind of otherwise terminal illness?"

The man shakes his head. "I doubt it. If that is indeed the case, it must be one hell of an illness he's trying to cure with all the body parts he's accruing. Something else is going on here, Ithaca; of that I am sure." He reaches into his drawer and shuffles through a stack of files. Locating the one he desires, he extends it in my direction. "I would advise taking a look at this."

Taking the file, I run my eyes over the pages inside. Medical reports, all detailing similar incidents to that which are currently occurring in Seyda Neen, lie within. There are six reports in total, the bulk of them from Tel Branora, an impressive Telvanni settlement on Azura's Coast, a few days walk east.

"Seyda Neen is not the only town to have suffered under this maniac's knife," Dion summarises.

"So it would seem," I say absently, continuing to drink in the information on the pages. "Not one victim dead," I note, handing the file back to Dion.

"And all magically healed, albeit rather cruedly. Suggests a certain conscience, wouldn't you say?"

"Or the desire to not attract the wrath of the Legion," I retort.

The healer makes a low sound of agreement.

"In any case, it seems that our friend is in a hurry." Anxious to return to Seyda Neen in light of this new information, I rise from my chair, preparing to leave.

"What makes you say that?" Dion asks, rising also, the Imperial barely coming up to my shoulders when standing.

"Because, according to those reports, the previous attacks occurred every few weeks, over the course of many months. We've had five attacks in just under a month. Whomever is responsible for these attacks, it appears they are growing desperate."

Dion's face visibly pales at my words. "Be careful back there, Ithaca. Ensure you make a formal report to Varus Vantinius before you return. He may be able to offer you further assistance."

I smile in the healer's direction. "Thank you, Dion. I will. In the meantime, I have a favour to ask."

"Of course," he says.

"Draw up a comprehensive list of illnesses that can be cured through transplantation and forward it to my office in Seyda Neen as soon as you possibly can."

"Will do."

Glancing out into the hall, I spy Volmer in the next room. The man's fretful eyes quickly find my own.

A hand comes to rest, lightly, upon one of my shoulders. "Leave Volmer to me, Ithaca. Best I deliver the news to him, I think."

A sad smile passes over the healer's face, and I nod graciously. "Thank you."

It isn't until I am halfway down the Plaza that I hear the Dunmer screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

"Does this one need a refill?" the Khajitt bartender purrs, motioning toward my empty bottle of brandy.

"Without question," I reply.

The cat-woman restores my supply of alcohol dutifully, bows, then moves off toward the end of the bar.

I look around the cramped quarters that is the lower deck of the _Cathana_. It has been an hour since I boarded this ship, and it will be at least one more until we pull up alongside the dock in Seyda Neen. Between the creaking, the rocking, and the stale air, I need to get outside.

Only seconds pass before I am lifting the heavy, metal trapdoor and climbing out onto the top deck.

The late evening air is cool and fresh, a perfect contrast to the oppressively humid air of the past day. Masser and Secunda are putting on a spectacular show for everyone in the night's sky; I cannot recall ever seeing the moons quite so vivid. The gentle lapping of the water carrying the ship, as well as the soft whacking of the sails in the wind which propels us forward, provides the soundtrack for this perfect evening.

Underneath the black and purple firmament, I take a seat at one of the tables and attempt to quell my racing thoughts. I am unable to do so, but at least I worry in style. The waiter — another Khajitt — brings me a few appetisers and takes my order for a meal which is delivered almost immediately; the guar-hide chairs are wonderfully well-cushioned (a rarity in Vvardenfell); and I am in the company of several notable faces, the most notable being Duke of Ebonheart, Orvas Dren.

With a few extra septims in my pocket after winning that bet with Albecius last Loredas, I figured I'd spurge and jump on one of the passenger-vessels bound for Blacklight. It was a good choice, despite it adding an extra forty minutes to the journey.

I watch Dren and his stunning, large-breasted companion with a wary interest. I wonder what business takes the Duke to Blacklight. Probably none that is good for the people of Blacklight, if the rumours are to be believed.

As I watch the pair, I notice movement in the corner of my eye. A dark figure to my right, and very close.

I turn my attentions toward that figure, now standing over me. It is a woman — an Imperial in her mid-twenties like myself — with dark hair and equally dark eyes. Her lips stretch into a small, attractive smile, and the woman's face, superimposed against the red and white orbs in the heavens, is truly a sight to behold.

"Is this seat taken?" she asks in a voice that is a perfect mix of softness and depth.

I motion toward the chair in question. "It will be if you sit down."

Taking my cue, she does so, throwing one leg over the other and covering it quickly with her dark robes. She makes no move to speak, but, instead, merely looks out toward the Ascadian Isles slowly moving by.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" she says, and I cannot help but agree. Far across the water, the call of the familiar Grand Pharos lighthouse beckons us closer, guiding us home to my town.

She turns to me, then, and looks down at my plate. "Your meal is getting cold."

"Well spotted," I respond. I notice that her side of the table is distinctly uncluttered. "Would you like anything?"

"No, no," she says, and I drop the hand I had raised for the waiter. "I dined earlier."

The woman's voice is authoritative but in a gentle sort of way. Her tones are somewhat mesmerising, and I find myself wishing she would use more words.

"A drink, then." This time, I do call the waiter.

She cracks a smile. "Very well."

It feels strange to eat while my extremely forward companion does not, but I do, for I have not eaten since the morning. As well, I've never found the meals at the Black Shalk Cornerclub to be particularly sustaining.

"Where are you bound?" I ask the woman across from me as she sips her mug of Shein in both hands.

"A small village by the coast called 'Seyda Neen'. Have you heard of it?"

"I have indeed," I say, "though, sometimes I wish I haven't."

The woman eyes me with an amused curiosity, her dark hair fluttering in the breeze. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

"It is a small town," I answer, taking a bunch of my own, blonde hair in my hand and placing it into an impressive ponytail. "A tiny, insignificant speck on the map of a world much more interesting than anything that has ever happened in Seyda Neen."

The woman sits back, relaxing into her chair. "And how does one of the Empire's Knights end up stationed in a tiny, insignificant 'speck on the map' like Seyda Neen?"

"The Census and Excise office," I reply, sitting back myself and placing my feet atop an unoccupied chair nearby. "The tax agents there need a lot of protection."

"I can imagine they do," the woman says, taking another swig in that cute, two-handed way of her's. "Where would be your preferred posting?"

"Up at Fort Buckmoth." My answer is given without hesitation.

"Why do you say that?" the woman leans forward slightly now, looking into my eyes expectantly, seeming genuinely interested in my answer.

"Ever since the Ghostfence came down, the Imperials at Buckmoth have been assisting the Temple's forces in containing the horrors that are now free to roam about the land there. They're also helping retake Red Mountain. Tomorrow, I could be part of the team that is cleansing Endusal. Instead, I'll be wielding a pen rather than a sword, as well as tracking down some maniac with the weirdest form of kleptomania I've ever seen."

That catches her attention. "Kleptomania?"

I've said too much. Loose lips. "Let's just say, I wouldn't stay in Seyda Neen too long. As a matter of fact, if you can get to wherever you're going via Gnaar Mok, I'd give Seyda Neen a miss entirely."

"Why do you say that?" she asks in that smooth, deep voice. "If something is afoot in Seyda Neen, I would like to know."

"Where are you headed?" I ask.

"Balmora," she answers. "I am not due there for a week, but my intention was to rest up for a few days before making my way out there. It has been a long journey here, and travel is starting to disagree with me."

The familiar trees of the Bitter Coast are now on display as we make our way past the small island just a small ways out from Seyda Neen. The Grand Pharos is now close enough to cast its light over the entire ship, bathing my companion in a warm, golden light. The bellow of the Silt Strider nearby heralds our approach, the dimensional sound vibrating the deck of the ship ever so slightly.

"My advice would be to delay your rest just a few hours longer and lodge in Pelagiad," I tell her. "The Halfway Tavern there can be a bit rough for reasons of its own, but it is by far your best option given the current state of affairs."

Her eyes are wide now. My words have obviously troubled her. Behind her, the Census and Excise office becomes larger and larger. The _Cathana_ carefully parallels the dock, and slowly comes to a stop. The captain yells at a crewman to drop the anchor and the man quickly obeys, dropping the large, angular piece of metal into the water on the starboard side.

The woman and I rise, the look of disquiet still strong on her face. "I need to fetch my things from below. Will it trouble you too much to wait for me? I am not certain of my way around here."

"Of course," I say, and bow slightly to the woman, who is, like everyone, much shorter than I.

She descends through the trapdoor and I make my way around to the port side of the vessel. The Census and Excise dock is bright. The lanterns on the foremost pylons have been lit ahead of our arrival, affording the crew enough light to extend the walkway out and allow passengers to board or alight.

I wonder why nobody is out here to greet us, a mystery soon laid to rest by the appearance of Ganciele Douar in the office's doorway. Light from inside that office spills out onto the soil, and disappears when Ganciele closes the door behind him.

"Fear no longer, Ganciele," I say, leaning on the ship's guardrail and opening my arms wide. "Your illustrious commander has returned." Given the plummeting morale around the barracks recently, and in light of the hit that morale is about to take when I let them in on what I learned in Vivec, I figure I'll try to keep things as light as possible.

While Ganciele usually revels in banter (it gives him an opportunity to openly insult his superiors and get away with it), tonight he does not bite.

"What's wrong?" I ask, finally noticing his grave expression as he nears the ship.

The sound of the large wooden door to the office smashing against the wall prevents Ganciele from answering. All heads turn to the source of the sound.

At first, it isn't clear why the door opened. Then, the reason becomes clear.

Adraria Vandacia bursts from the doorway, walking determinedly toward the ship. Socucius Ergalla is in hot-pursuit of the woman, pleading words issuing from his mouth.

Socucius spots me when he and Adraria are halfway down the dock. "Knight Errant Caecilia, could you tell this woman that she cannot simply abandon her post and leave the village. Adraria, please listen to reason!"

Adraria — an officious, overbearing Tax Agent to whom I've never taken a liking — stops before the ship's captain and extends a large cloth sack toward him. "I would like to board this ship. Whatever your rate, this should cover it."

"I move toward the woman and put up my hand in front of her. "Adraria, what's going on?"

She turns to me, her face hard with anger. "You are useless. Albecius is useless. This town went to Oblivion when you took over, Caecilia. Say what you want about the man, but Sellus Gravius would never have allowed this to happen. I'm done." She drops the sack at the captain's feet and moves past me toward the ship's trapdoor.

The scrape of sword against scabbard stops her dead in her tracks. Slowly, she turns to me.

"If you wish to leave, Adraria, I cannot stop you," I say over my broadsword. "But not without my approval, and most certainly not without notice."

I rotate to face Socucius. The bearded Breton quivers fretfully, quite a departure from his usual demeanour. "What's going on here?" I demand.

"Draren Thiralas was attacked in his home as he slept not twenty minutes ago. The assailant tore an eye from Draren's socket before the Dunmer woke and made off with it before the guards arrived."

"And where were you this whole time, Caecilia?" Adraria's scolding voice sounds from behind me. "Why were you not here to protect Draren? Where were you during the other attacks? You are a disgrace to the Legion."

Adraria is obviously distraught so I will give her a pass for that remark. Even so, I raise my sword in her direction. "You are not leaving Socucius to run this office alone. If you leave aboard this ship, what I do to you will make Draren's attacker look like St. Olms in comparison."

Adraria stands rooted in place, and she begins to shake visibly.

I again turn to Socucius. "In what direction did the attacker flee?"

"Nobody's sure," the Breton says urgently. "But Tandram Andalen thinks he saw something moving up the hills on the road to Hla Oad after the attack.

"Very good," I say, sheathing my sword and descending the walkway. "Ganciele, you're with me."


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm heading out," Socucius says, scratching his beard, long turned white with age.

"Goodnight, Socucius," I return, not looking up from my work. I expect the man to proceed through my door and out into the village as he usually does. Due to its rather absurd placement, my office is frequently used as a causeway. The man, however, having swished toward the door, lingers.

I look up.

"Working late tonight, Ithaca?" he asks with a smile that's just a bit too wide and sustained to be genuine.

"I'll be relieving Hrisskar later on in the evening." I throw down my pen and rub my tired eyes.

"Wise," the ageing Breton says. "That was a good plan you had."

"It was, assuming we can get enough Detect Life potions," I say. "I was just filling out the requisition forms now."

"If necessary, I can send Fine-Mouth to Vivec to procure a few," Socucious offers. "He would be grateful for the coin."

Picking up my pen, I force myself to sign and date the document before me, finishing my day's work. "I may just take you up on that."

"Good, good," the Breton says. "Goodnight, Ithaca."

"You, too, Socucius."

A rush of cold air floods the room when the man opens the door, along with the gentle pattering sound of rain striking wood and ground.

Yawning, I place the requisition form in the outbox and extinguish all of the candles with my thumb and forefinger. The room now pitch-black, I navigate the obstacle course to the door by memory and touch. By now I am extremely familiar with my cramped little workspace, and so it takes me little time to locate the handle.

My boots squelch into the wet ground as I make my way out amongst the cobblestone buildings and into the rainy night. The dank smell characteristic of the swamps of the Bitter Coasts assails my nostrils immediately as I do so. Between the cold and wet, I would not expect to see many wandering around outside at this time of night. Still, the village seems strangely quiet. Despite my lack of attachment to this place, it has always felt homey. The sense of community resulting from its diminutive size and close quarters has always given it a cozy, sleepy feel. Tonight, however, that atmosphere is all but gone, replaced by a pervasive feeling of forebode. Mist closes ominously around the town after having rolled in from the ocean, and distant rumbles of thunder do nothing to put me at ease.

I tilt my neck up toward to the lighthouse. The shape of Tuldus Axilian is barely discernible in the dark and the mist. His silhouette is unmoving as he trains an unflinching pair of eyes on the town below. To the north, on the other side of town and up on the hills, sits Nallea Lioron who is hopefully doing the same. Between these two lookouts and the Detect Life scrolls with which they are armed, I am hoping that we will have plenty of warning before the next attack. No amount of invisibly will protect this guy tonight.

Climbing the wooden stairs to Arille's Tradehouse, rotting from years of exposure to the salty air, it strikes me as to how quiet the village is. Normally, the gathering in the bar above the Tradehouse is loud enough to be heard from the turn to Pelagiad. Tonight, that revelry is gone, replaced by an eerie, menacing silence.

The door to the tradehouse creaks open, and the Altmer at the front desk warily meets my eyes. "Good evening, Errant Caecilia. How are things outside?"

I stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Everything is fine, Arille." I have been fielding questions from the citizens all day. I realise they are scared and that they want to be kept informed, but I must be selective about with whom I entrust knowledge of our defences.

Surmounting the stairs in the bright, wooden building, I take a seat at the bar and Elone hands me my usual. The Cyrodiilic Brandy tastes putrid and goes down hard. Just how I like it.

After my second swig, I sense something to my right. A familiar, dark figure soon takes the seat beside me. "De ja vu," I remark, and glance sidelong toward her.

She does the same. "You abandoned me last night."

I look into her large, dark eyes. "You have my apologies."

The woman nods and looks down silently toward the ground. The amber glow of the candles above dances upon her shiny, dark hair, and I catch myself having gotten lost in the light show. The woman smiles, but something about her manner tells me that she carries with her some melancholy that I find myself wanting to understand.

"I kept an eye out for you today," I continue. "I assumed that you had left for Pelagiad."

She shakes her head. "No. I appreciate your concern, but I literally cannot take another step."

"Fair enough," I say.

The woman cross her legs under her robe and rotates to face me, gracing me with her full attention. "I heard the search last night did not go well."

"You heard correct," I respond, taking another swig of brandy. This one hits me rather hard, and I place the bottle a little ways down the bar to prevent easy reach. "The bastard didn't leave even a single footprint for us to follow."

"How is… Draren?" she asks. "I believe that was his name."

"Draren is in Vivec, recovering." I lean over and grab the bottle again, the urge for the liquid inside suddenly returning at the mention of the unfortunate Dunmer. "He will be fine, but his full sight is something that he will never regain."

The woman remains silent for a moment, her milky white hand resting gently on the bar. "You blame yourself, don't you?" The woman speaks her words tenderly, but not soft.

"You were there when Adraria delivered her little speech last night," I say bitterly. Then, I straighten up. "She was correct. I have failed this town. But I will allow myself only a moment of self-pity, so that I may not let it down again."

The woman gives me an approvingly look. "That philosophy will do the people of Seyda Neen well."

I wish I agreed. "Where are you from?" I ask, the thought suddenly striking me that, despite spending a fair amount of time in this woman's company, I know little about her.

"I am from Dagon Fel," she answers. "It is a small village, not unlike this one, on the northern tip of Vvardenfell."

"I know where Dagon Fel is," I say, sitting back and smirking. "What is your business down this way?"

"Oh, well, sorry," she says, feigning affront. Then, she sighs. "Certain members of my family have been causing trouble of late. I am here to chair a meeting to see if I can calm things down."

"Why you?" I ask.

"Because I am the oldest," she replies.

I take in the sight of her delightfully youthful features. "You are the oldest? What about your parents? Your grandparents?"

Her dark eyes meet mine, and, in them, I do see a certain knowing that is far beyond her years. "They have been dead for a very long time." The melancholy I suspected hidden underneath her exterior makes its way further to the surface.

"I am sorry," I say, extending my hand to her forearm. She looks down upon it, seemingly taking in the sight of it being there.

"No problem."

The barrage of rain on the wood above has become even more insistent during our conversation, enough so that her next words are impossible to hear.

Witnessing my frustration, the woman leans in to me, putting her mouth close enough to feel her warm breath in my ear. "You should walk me home, Ithaca Caecilia."

How she knows my name puzzles me, but I agree, saying goodnight to Elone and accompanying the woman outside.

On Arille's balcony, I look to her for direction. In answer, she takes my hand, and leads me out into deluge and toward the shacks down by the beach. We stop outside the former home of Foryn Gilnith, a Dunmer that had murdered an Imperial Tax Agent almost one year ago. Arille purchased the shack not long ago as a guesthouse in a bid to expand his business. This must be where the woman is staying.

The din of the rain above subsides when the woman closes the door to the small shack. Inside the straw walls, the atmosphere is warm and cozy. The sudden desire to leave Hrisskar up there until the early morning strikes me.

Alas, however, I must bid the woman farewell. I am about to do so, but the feeling of a pair of warm, pillowy lips meeting mine stops me.

The woman pulls away and grins. When she gets a look at my shocked countenance, that grin widens. "What's wrong, Ithaca?" she asks, her soft hands finding their way under my armour and onto the bare skin of my back. "Am I not to your taste?"

"No," I say quickly, not wishing to insult her. "You're just very forward, is all. You took me by surprise."

Her left hand moves now, around to the latch on my cuirass. Skilfully, she flicks it open, and the heavy, metal piece of armour comes free. "Do you not like surprises?" she asks, her deep voice laden with suggestion.

"They are occasionally amusing, I will admit."

She holds my gaze as her hands do their work, removing my bracers, pauldrons, and greaves with a surprising efficiency. Soon, my undergarments are all that remains.

I reach up and run my fingers through her dark hair, now close enough for me to see the undercurrents of red there that had previous escaped my notice. After that, I bring her face to mine.

Again, we pull away, and this time, something about the woman has changed: her shirt is now open.

At the sight of the large, perfect pair of breasts which the woman showcases for my pleasure, only one thought occupies my brain.

 _Screw Hrisskar,_ I remark internally, and we begin.

* * *

Pounding, yelling, screaming.

The calamity coming from outside the shack rips me from my peaceful sleep.

The hammock in which I last night slept has no other occupant. The feeling disappointment I experience at not seeing the woman there beside me is second only to the feeling of disquiet at wondering why she is gone.

Sitting up, I realise that I am still thoroughly unclothed. "Just a moment," I say to the annoyingly insistent visitor at the door, and I move to locate my clothing.

It does not take me long to do so, and soon I am comfortably inside my blacks.

The shack is empty, I notice. Not a trace of the woman remains. While the mystery of her disappearance confounds me, it is not the only mystery upon which my mind dwells.

That woman did something to me last night.

Call it an excuse — something to dismiss my behaviour as something other than fancy — but shirking my duties for a woman is not, has not, and will never be part of my M.O. Now free of her spell, I see the situation for what it was — a horrible, horrible mistake; one that could have easily cost someone their life.

"Yes, I'm coming!" I shout to the door's attacker, still beating incessantly on the door.

I flick the flimsy construction open, and the concerned faces of Hrisskar and Albecius appear in the entrance.

Albecius raises an amused eyebrow at the sight of my dishevelled appearance.

I exit the building, meeting the Imperial's mischievous eyes as I do. "Don't ask."


	4. Chapter 4

"3, 2, 1." I count down the seconds as the last grains of sand in the hourglass drain to the bottom. As if on cue, the blue lights marking the presence of all living beings in the area to my eyes wink out.

Flipping the timepiece over, I settle back onto my hands and relax for the first time in what seems like an eon. While I still have many hours to go on my shift, the heavy mist covering the town tonight makes my presence on this hill mostly decorative; my vision reveals nothing useful now.

I turn my head to take a peek at the lands on the other side of the hill. Only a single light can be seen in the streets of Pelagiad at this time of night. Looking down on the indistinct lines which make up the Imperial town, I cannot help but feel a slight pang of anger over the fact that they can sleep soundly while we cannot.

My opinion of that settlement over the hill isn't helped by my opinion of its commander, that supercilious Altmer, Angoril. In response to my petition to the Knight Protector to spare a few men for the defence of Seyda Neen during this difficult time, he sent only one. That soldier — a rather inept looking recruit by the name of Amascus Endusa — is atop the Grand Pharos at this very moment. From there, he carries out the duty that Tuldus performed there the night before, and I, myself, perform right now from this spot overlooking Seyda Neen. Even if this new entrant to the Imperial Legion proves that he deserves his armour and shield, this garrison will still lack the resources to adequately deal with this new threat. Pelagiad's Knight Protector knows this well, and, as such, I consider his reply to my request an insult more than anything else.

By now, the recruit should have ingested his first potion for the night, and the location of every living thing in Seyda Neen should be to him exposed.

A few minutes go by, during which I strongly consider chancing a walk around the village's perimeter. I feel useless up here, and worse, I feel fidgety. Albecius and I devised this system this afternoon to make our paltry supply of Detect Life potions last long enough see us through until the next shipment comes in. Alternating our use of the concoctions, there is at least one person with the ability to track living beings watching over Seyda Neen at any given time. What we didn't count on, though, was the arrival of this mist, come to choke the village and reduce visibility to more or less zero for the second night in a row. In these conditions, a second lookout is redundant.

Be that as it may, I'd rather not abandon my post. I've already done that once in recent times, and I do not plan on making it a habit. My men and I have already had to sit through an hour of Hrisskar's bleating about having to stay up all night, and I'd rather not put us through all that again.

Yawning, I settle in for the long, boring haul, and desperately try to focus my tired eyes on anything I possibly can through the haze.

"Ithaca?"

The timid voice issues from behind me. I rise and draw my sword in one precise, swift movement. "Who goes there?"

"It's just me, Ithaca," a now extremely familiar female voice voice issues from a location unknown. "I did not mean to startle you."

I scan the area carefully for the dark, hourglass-shaped silhouette that I would expect to see before me, but, as far as I can tell, I am alone. "Where are you?" I whisper.

"Put away your sword and I will come to you."

I hesitate, but I suppose that violence isn't going to answer any of the many questions I have of the woman who had her way with me and then deserted me during the night. I grit my teeth and replace my sword into its holster. "Fine."

"Much better." Her voice comes from directly behind me, and extremely close.

I rotate to face her. She grins at me, almost annoyingly so, and I fight the urge to backhand her where she stands.

"You will wrinkle long before your time if you make frowning like that a regular habit," she says.

"What magic did you use upon me last night?" I demand quietly, my hand still firmly on my weapon's hilt. "Telvanni Bug Musk? Or something else?"

The woman's eyes shy from mine. "I will admit to using a smidgeon of the former."

That solves that one mystery. Now, onto the next. "Why?"

The woman draws in both her arms close to her, making herself appear smaller and more vulnerable than I would have ever have imagined she could. She opens her mouth to speak but closes it again, perhaps querying her mind for the most believable story it can invent.

"Well?" I snap, as loudly as I can without attracting undue attention.

"Because I didn't want you to say no." The woman has shed her timorous demeanour now, her voice returning to its natural, deep state.

Gazing into her eyes, I find myself coming under a spell, one of a different kind than the one I had been subject to last night. "You didn't want me to say no?"

"That's right," she says softly, and smiles.

"But then why did you leave me this morning?" I ask harshly. "What was so important that couldn't wait until the morning or until after a quick farewell?"

Her smile wavers for a moment, and in that moment, I feel as though the woman is genuinely contrite. Her initial expression returns with a vengeance, however, and the corners of her mouth curl upward as she gives her pithy reply: "I have to keep things interesting somehow."

"Yes, well, your way of entertaining yourself last night could be considered by some as rape," I say bitterly. "It would not be the first time such a charge has been laid over the use of that Telvanni stuff."

She takes a step closer to me. Then, holding my eyes captive with her own, she says: "Are you really telling me that the only reason that the events of last night transpired because of a few drops of perfume? Nothing else was at play?"

I turn my head away. "No."

"I'm sorry, Ithaca," she says, placing a tentative hand upon my forearm. "For everything I've done." A soft set of fingertips meet my jaw. Then, they gently coax my face toward the woman's. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

My eyes roll at her obvious attempt to charm me without the aid of magic, and I exhale a sigh of resignation. "Sit with me."

Her face lights up at my words, and she happily does so, taking a seat next to me on the hard, grey stone. She sits close, I notice; close enough for our knees to touch.

"So what's going on?" she asks, shifting slightly to get comfortable.

"I am on watch tonight," I respond, omitting Amascus' presence in the lighthouse from my explanation.

Just then, I realise something – something that I feel stupid for allowing to escape my notice up until now. "Wait a moment – how did you find me up here?"

"Your friend, the battlemage, may have had something to do with how I came upon your location."

I sigh again, this time with irritation. I'll have to have a stern talk with Albecius tomorrow; he should have never divulged that information to this woman. "And I'm guessing that's how you came to know my name, too?"

She shakes her head. "It is no quest to figure out your name in this town, Ithaca Caecilia."

I turn to her. The mist has closed in fully around us now, giving the impression that the world does not exist, and that this woman and I are here entirely alone. "What do you mean?"

"People are scared," she says. "They want to know what's happening, and they are angry that you have not done more. Often have I heard talk of you during my stay here; talk of the Knight Errant allowing a madman to tear apart their beloved town. They want answers; they want justice; and their talk focuses on little else."

Anxiety rises in my chest at the woman's words. "I am aware of all of this."

"So what are you going to do?"

I stand, and begin to pace about the uneven plateau. "In truth, I do not know."

The woman runs a hand through her dark hair, and rests her arm on a raised knee. "Do you have any leads?"

My pacing slows, and I place my hands on the back of my neck. "Not really. All we know is that, whoever it is, they reside closeby."

"Why organs?" she muses. "Where do they fit?"

My eyes jerk toward her, fixing her with a lethal glare. That information, too, was never meant to escape the Census and Excise office's walls.

"What? You think people don't know?"

Shaking my head, I let it go. "By this point I think we've ruled out that it's someone trying to cure an illness," I explain, feeling surprisingly happy to have someone to bounce ideas off. "Nobody could survive so many operations in such a short space of time, if at all."

"What about a group of people?" the woman ventures. "What if this person is using what he gains from the people of Seyda Neen to cure many, not one?"

I nod absently, mentally working through the ramifications of her hypothesis. "That's not a bad theory."

"And the only one that makes sense to me," she adds. "Unless this guy is trying to build himself a wife or something."

The woman intends her words in jest, and I grin. A few seconds later, however, I begin to think.

"I was joking, Ithaca," she says, observing my cogitative expression.

"But it's not out of the realm of possibility," I say.

"You cannot build a human being," the woman retorts. "If it were, nobody would bother dating."

I smile briefly at her quip, but return to my thoughts immediately. "The Census and Excise office keeps track of all deaths in Vvardenfell. If I have a look at them, I might be able to generate a list of all men and women who were widowed in Vvardenfell in recent months."

"That is completely ridiculous," the woman says, a bit more forcefully than I would have expected from her. "You would be wasting your valuable time. Not only would such a task be unworkably complex, you're talking about magic that has never, and likely will never, be invented."

"We're also talking about some nutcase stealing people's organs, do not forget."

The woman appears as if she is about to say more, but bites her tongue.

Raising her head, she appears as though she is about to look toward me. Halfway through the motion, however, something diverts her attention. Her face falls.

"What is it?" I ask demand, an expected chill running down my back at her sudden change in countenance.

"Sssh," she hisses in a way that suggests that she will not tolerate argument. Her eyes flick from side to side, and she looks down, concentrating on something with a frightening intent.

A few tense moments pass. Then, she gets to her feet. "Get to the village," she instructs.

"What are you talking about?" I question, utterly confused.

"Something is happening there," she says quickly. "Get down there. Right now."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you, Agent Unwritten, for your awesome review! It's people like you who make writing worth it :-) I'm ridiculously happy to hear that you're enjoying the story, and that it's leaving you in suspense. That's one of my prime directives for this story, along with creating atmosphere. To you, and all of my readers, I hope you enjoy what I have in store for the next chapters. There's plenty of action coming up, as well as a bit of comic relief that I think players of Morrowind will really get a kick out of. I've already hinted at the latter, if you're observant enough to spot it.

I'm aiming to write and post new chapters on a daily basis. Until then :-)


	5. Chapter 5

Leaving the woman behind, I dash off toward the town. The way before me is rough, however, and my ability to see through the fog is minimal, so that dash quickly turns into more of a brisk, determined walk.

A few minutes later, I leave the treacherous terrain of the mountain behind and begin my flight over flat ground. Passing the small, wooden door to the Adamasartus cave, I make my way toward the Silt Strider and the town.

I haven't a clue what I expect to find down there. The woman's instructions were cryptic at best, and I have barely any information to go on. Nevertheless, I keep on going, hoping that, once I am there, things will start to become clear.

I cross the footbridge into town and scan the area for any sign of trouble. I find nothing. A few seconds of intent listening turns up little other than the sounds of frogs in the swamps.

There are a surprising number of places in Seyda Neen that I could check, and I am not sure where to begin. Entirely arbitrarily, I pick the Census and Excise office as my starting point.

Tiny particles of water, numbering in the thousands, hit me as I wade through the mist, toward the dark, looming structure of the office. The conical roof of the warehouse tower looms menacingly above me, increasing in size during my quiet approach. Intuition tells me that, whatever it is I am looking for, it is in there.

Confirming my suspicions, I find the door to the warehouse ajar. This door is secured each evening with a large, cast-iron lock. I find that lock on the floor just inside the doorway. Retrieving the object with a cautious hand, it appears charred but is cold to the touch.

Inside it is dark, and only a few scraps of illumination from above light the path up the stairs.

Before I start on that path, I look down at the heavy set of armour in which my body is encased. With the knowledge that this particular task is going to call upon stealth rather than force, I remove all but my greaves, stripping off the rest down to my blacks.

Inside the warehouse is a pervasive chill; I am unsure if that is due to the fact that it is genuinely cold, or if it is my perception. Not knowing what it is I may find upstairs is certainly enough to chill me to my bones.

What will this person look like? I wonder. What will I find them doing? Who do they want tonight? Why are they doing this? Am I already too late? A plethora of disturbing speculations build up in my mind, to the point that, when I spiral my way up to the top of the stairs, my legs are noticeably unsteady.

Underneath the concave ceiling of straw, I find nothing but a few crates of supplies, as well as a single candle down to the last of its wick. I exhale an involuntary sigh of relief at this development, the inevitable confrontation between me and the madman momentarily delayed.

Backtracking, I climb down the steps to the tower's halfway point. The large door to the administration quarters sits ominously before me, half shrouded in darkness.

Placing my hand around the wooden handle, I push it open and pass through.

Luckily, it is not as dark in here as it is in the warehouse. A dim, golden glow streaks down the hall. The source of that light is visible through the window at the end of the hall. Staring at the fuzzy point of light in the distance that is the Grand Pharos, I wonder if I made a mistake coming up here alone.

I shrug the thought away and continue; hailing Amascus and bringing him along might very well prove more a hinderance than a help.

Creeping down the hall, I pass the door to Socucious' quarters and then those of Fralvi Fauseius. Fralvi's quarters are no doubt empty - she had the good fortune to take a position with the East Empire Company a few months ago. As they'd decided to send her up to Solstheim to work in that new mining colony there, she wasn't particularly thrilled about leaving; if only she'd known at the time how lucky she was.

Progressing past the guest quarter's, the first sign of something amiss enters my sight.

A subtle green light pulsates out of the gap in the half-opened door at the end of the corridor.

A knot in my stomach forms when I realise who owns the apartment through that door:

Adraria Vandacia.

Ignoring the unpleasant sensation in my stomach for the moment, I slowly approach the door. My anxious footfalls are awkward, but also mercifully silent without my heavy boots.

Soon, I am almost upon the doorway. Standing pressed up against the wall to the left of it, I take a few deep breaths before I chance a look inside.

My reticence to just walk in there disturbs me; after many years of being a solider, I feel like fear should not grip me as much as it does right now. But it does, mostly because this is the first enemy I have encountered that I cannot understand.

The room to my right is silent, I notice; the room would seem empty if one were to go by sound alone. That eerie green light however still pulsates steadily from inside.

Finally, I work up the necessary courage and move a single eye past the door's frame.

Inside, silhouetted against the light from the window on the opposite side of the room, I see a hunched figure. Underneath this figure, Adraria's unmoving form shimmers with that green light. I am not sure what is more disquieting: the fact that Adraria's body is shimmering, or the fact that I don't know why.

From here, I am able to make out little of the intruder's activities. He is bent over the woman, and working on some fiendish task with his hands.

His form is also a mystery to me; all I can make out is that, whoever (or whatever) this is, it is in the shape of a man.

There is so little light in the room that I am surprised that he can work; the dim light radiating from from the Imperial Tax Agent's body provides little luminance to work with.

I duck back out of the doorway in order to weigh up my next moves. I could simply charge in there with my sword raised high. While that is my preference when dealing with confrontations, I do not think it would be very appropriate here.

I want this guy. I want him alive and well and able to tell me exactly why he does what he does. And, moreover, I want him to pay for what he has done. For taking Volmer's kidney; for taking Draren's eye; for everything he has inflicted upon the people of Seyda Neen and Tel Branora before that.

As such, I must devise a plan and with all haste. Though Adraria does not wake, this lunatic's heinous task could still very well be underway.

Pushing off the wall, I take a few steps back in the direction I came and carefully open the door to the guest quarters. Then, I move back down to the end of the corridor, taking position just inside the doorway to the warehouse.

Feeling around for my dagger, I draw it from its holster on my waist.

Weapon raised, I take aim for the guest quarter's inside wall. The Grand Pharos affords me enough light to accomplish this task, not betraying its light's promise of safety and comfort in the night.

The metal object sails through the air, and ricochets off the wall. It strikes the wooden floor of the room several times, bouncing to a halt.

A few seconds later, just as I had intended, the figure peeks its head out of Adraria's room.

The head disappears, then, and my already racing heart begins to beat faster. Fortunately, however, the figure quickly reappears, this time in its entirety. Silhouetted against the light emanating from the Grand Pharos, I still cannot make out any details regarding his form. The identity of this person, for now, remains a mystery.

Excitement mixes in with the anxiety in my system, and a rush of adrenaline begins to course through my veins as I see the figure approach the door. Hopefully, he'll take the bait, and go the rest of the way.

To my delight, he does, his investigation of the sound taking him all the way into the apartment next to Adraria's.

Once inside, I run.

Noise be damned, I head as fast as I possibly can toward that door. When I arrive at it, the figure inside turns quickly toward me, and then makes for the door.

Readying a deadly kick, my boot connects with his face, sending him skittering back all the way over into the far wall.

With all haste, I close the door, and quickly pull the top and bottom latches, securing him inside.

Then, I deflate against the door. The battle is won.

In a stroke of brilliance, eight months ago, when the construction of the sorely needed administration quarters was complete, I opted to use this redundant apartment both as a visitor's suite and a detention area. Seyda Neen has no jail, something which I discovered caused a couple of problems under my predecessor's tenure. Given the lack of a need for a full-scale facility to house criminals in such a small village, and with barely any need for guest quarters, I had the locks on the door to this room installed on the outside rather than the in, and ordered that the window be boarded up. Thank the Gods that I did.

Feeling rather proud, and with the exhilaration of victory still hot in my system, I begin to move away from the door to call Albecius.

As I do, however, something happens which stops me dead in my tracks.

An explosion issues from the guest quarters.

I run back to the door and move ear close to it.

Another detonation sounds, this one thundering enough to rattle the entire building.

My heart begins to race. The door to the quarters obscures my vision. I cannot tell what is happening in there!

A third strike erupts from behind the heavy, wooden barrier, and I finally decide that I need to go in.

Retracting both latches from their closed positions, I throw open the door.

A tremendous cloud of smoke billows out of the room and fills my nostrils, causing me to gag.

Sword drawn, I enter the room, avoiding the dancing orange spots of flame on the floor.

I rotate in every direction with my sword extended from my person, but I cannot see anyone in the room. As the smoke begins to clear, I am able to determine why.

The entire far wall to the guest quarters is gone, replaced by a large, smoking hole lined with orange embers.

I approach the opening and look out over Seyda Neen. Shrapnel from the explosions are strewn everywhere, all over the town.

The madman is nowhere to be seen.

I have failed.

"Amascus!" I call, fury in my voice.

"Yes?" The man's tremulous answer comes from somewhere on the ground.

"Which way did he go?"

"I don't know," he replies.

"You don't know?" I repeat, incredulous. "Gather the men! Find him!"

Leaving the remains of the wall behind, I bolt to Adraria's side in the next room.

She still lies there, unmoving, and still covered in that dim, green light. I believe her to be unconscious - then I see her eyes.

They are open, darting from side to side in what is unmistakably terror.

I smooth my fingers over her forehead to comfort her. "You're going to be okay."

I believe my words until I see the open wound in her chest.

The open wound positioned directly over her heart.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks again to you, Agent Unwritten, for leaving a review. The fact that you haven't played Morrowind but still enjoy the story is a huge complement. That's also a great thing for me to hear because I intend pull a 50 Shades of Grey and retool this Fanfiction into an original story once its complete. I would have written it as an original to begin with, but I dearly wanted to write a story set in Morrowind. You need to play the game, my friend; you are missing out if you do not.

To all of my other readers, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you're interested in some of my other works, check out my profile. My new lesfic science-fantasy story, When the Last Star Disappears, will definitely appeal to readers of this work :-)


	6. Chapter 6

"You stupid son of a bitch." I spit my words at Amascus' pathetic, quivering form. "How, in the name of every God in existence, did you manage to not figure out something was going on last night?"

"I don't know!" the recruit insists, his voice wavering in time with his trembling. "There must have been something wrong with the potion!"

My eyes widen with fury, and I begin to vibrate with rage. "If you knew there was a problem with the potion then why did you not just use another? You had three!"

"The potion was functioning! Lights marked the position of every living thing in the town, but — I don't know what happened! Please, be merciful, Errant Caecilia. Something must have gone wrong!"

"You stupid s'wit." My voice is quiet but filled with venom. "Didn't you at least see me coming down the mountain? Going up to the admin quarters? My shift wasn't due to finish for hours. Didn't you realise something unusual was going on?"

"I did!" the man admits hysterically. "But I figured you had left your shift early and were checking to make sure everything was okay. I'm new here, commander; I am not well-acquainted with procedures in this garrison!"

"You are a fool." The man's shoulders slump even further at my words, and he refuses to meet my eye-line. "The side of a building has to explode in flames before he realises something is going on. Is this what we can expect from the future generation of the Imperial Legion?"

The man says nothing. He can say nothing.

"Get out my sight, Amascus Endusa. Leave this town. Return to that bastard Angoril, and never show your face here again. Tell your master that he can expect a full report on your performance when this situation is dealt with."

For a moment, I half-expect the contemptible being before me to buckle on his knees, but, thankfully, he remains erect. He bows, a glibbering mess, and leaves the building.

I turn to face Albecius. The Imperial leans inside the doorway to the room, his eyes still on the spot where the recruit once stood. "Do you not think yourself a little too hard on the boy?"

My temper flares once more. "His negligence could have resulted in the deaths of both myself and Adraria Vandacia!"

Albecius looks to me, his eyes full of severity and threat.

I will my demeanour to soften; it would not be right to direct any of my anger toward the battlemage. "How is Adraria, by the way?"

"The bastard didn't have much of a chance to get his knife too far into her, thankfully. There was a healer on the Silt Strider when we put her on there; he seemed to think she'd be okay."

I nod and, despite myself, exhale a yawn.

"You should rest," he says. "You should have done so after returning with the search party last night. It has been a long night for you. Ganciele and I can take care of things while you do."

"You and Ganciele _will_ be taking care of things around here today," I say, grabbing my pack from the floor of the guard quarters. "I'm heading out as soon as the Silt Strider gets back. I will endeavour to return before nightfall."

Albecius fixes me with an inquisitive stare. "What is it you're planning, Caecilia?"

Slinging the pack over my shoulder, I walk to the door, meeting his gaze with mine. "Ever since this devil set foot on our shores, we've been approaching the problems he brought with him the wrong way." My words are hard and firm with resolve. "Starting now, that's going to change. But, for that to work, we are going to need something."

Albecius dwells on my words for a time before saying more. "And what is that something?"

"Help."

The battlemage barely contains a scoff at the prospect. "The Legion has made it clear that they do not wish devote any more of their precious resources to us. From whom do you intend to solicit aid?"

On my way out of the room, I turn back to the soldier briefly to answer.

"From the one person I wish to avoid."

* * *

I climb the stairs from the barracks under the Census and Excise office and exit the building via my office door. Now, on the streets, still soft from the other day's rain, I begin to work my way north.

As I do, I glance over my shoulder and up toward the devastated ruin that is the administration quarters. After I left to join the depressingly tiny search party that Amascus was able to throw together last night, several sections of the building collapsed and fell to the town below. The intruder had hit a vital support column during his assault on the back wall of his prison, and, apparently, it's a miracle even more of the structure didn't give way. Luckily, we had evacuated everyone from the building long before it gave way.

Walking out past the tradehouse and toward the footbridge, I notice several citizens watching me out of the corners of my eyes. Standing silently inside their homes, they study me, silently, through their windows, their eyes tracking me wherever I go.

It has been this way all morning. Knowing that they are not going to get any real information on what is transpiring here in the nights, they no longer bother to try. Rather than panic; rather than flee from the homes and businesses that have been their lives for countless years, they now witness events wordlessly, waiting for something to be done. Despite their misgivings, I do sympathise. Hopefully, their wait will be soon be over.

As I pass the last face in the last window of the last home on the path out of Seyda Neen, I feel relief to be leaving for a few hours. Climbing the hill, I approach the platform where my transport will (hopefully) soon be.

"Good morning, Darvame." I wave at the Dunmer caravaner, her azure skin shining softly in the sunlight.

"Morning, Sera," the woman returns. "The Silt Strider is not due back for another fifteen minutes."

"No worries," I say, taking a chair on the high, wooden platform. "I'll wait."

Before long, I hear the Silt Strider's call. The otherworldly sound echoes through the pass in the mountains, and down to us.

A few moments later, the colossal, six-legged creature comes into view and begins to draw near. Finally, it stops next to the platform.

Nobody disembarks at Seyda Neen.

I don't blame them.

I climb into the hollow section of the beast's enormous shell, and come to rest on a floor of dry, stiff muscle tissue.

Gazing upon the space in which I sit, I cannot believe that I have gotten used to this. As a girl, I used to hear stories about Vvardenfell in my Cheydinhal home. My uncle used to tell me of how the Dunmer there had domesticated a variety of insect native to their lands, utilising the gigantic beings for transport by manipulating organs accessed through an artificial opening in their shell. Armed with the knowledge from those stories, I figured that I could expect little surprise when I arrived in Morrowind. Wow, was I wrong.

The ride is comfortable. The lumbering creature moves lazily, but its lack of speed is more than compensated for by the sheer immensity of its gait.

Less than a minute goes by before we have surmounted the range between Seyda Neen and Pelagiad. The salt fades from the air as we retreat from the ocean and enter the verdant, green pastures of the Ascadian Isles.

The day is hot and the breeze is cool. I lower my back onto the creature's shell, the manufactured curve there accommodating my body perfectly. Tilting my head torpidly to the right, I spy Pelagiad, the Imperial town obscured by the towering mushroom trees moving by. I resist the urge to spit in its direction.

In almost no time at all, we depart the Isles and cross into Foyada Mamaea. The view from this place up here is exquisite; always my favourite part of a Silt Strider ride. From this vantage point, I can see directly up the grey, ash-covered ravine and up to its creator: Red Mountain. That volcano is the dominating feature of the island, and, on a clear day, its large, sinister form be seen from all the way from Skyrim.

Once out of the foyada, my destination passes languidly to my right. There is no platform on which to disembark here, so I'm going to have to get off at Balmora a ways down the road and then double-back. My usual frustration about this fact does not trouble me today; my body is thankful for the few extra minutes of rest. That gratitude evaporates as soon as I find myself standing on the main road, looking at Fort Moonmoth in the distance.

Sighing, I press on.

As I approach the wall of the fort, I notice something strange: there are no men guarding the battlements. Then, I see where the must have went.

Four large teams of soldiers — consisting of perhaps the entire military population of the fort — are arming themselves in the staging area. Having collected their swords, axes, spears, and bows, each team assembles into its own formation, and heads toward the gates.

A bad feeling forms in the the pit of my stomach as they do. What's going on?

I nod to the leader of one of the teams during their approach. Urfling, a bearded, burly Nord and the only solider here whose name I remember, comes over. The trooper stops before me and salutes. "Greetings, Errant Caecilia. It has been too long."

"At ease, Urfling" I say absently, glancing nervously around at the emptying fort. "I agree. What's happening here?"

"Solea Nuccusius was kidnapped last night," he replies in his gruff, overly-loud voice. "The commander has ordered a thorough search and investigation."

" _What?_ " I ask in stunned disbelief. I have known that woman — Solea — for many years and have sparred with her on several occasions. Based on what I have seen, I would have imagined that an army would have trouble putting her down. That woman is deadly — with a sword or without. "How?"

The Nord shakes his head. "All we know is that one hell of a battle took place in her quarters last night. Apart from that, we know little."

I turn to look at the retreating shapes of the three teams fanning away from the fort. As I do, my anxiety begins to increase. Seyda Neen is not far from here — is it possible that whoever did this to Solea is also the one who is responsible for what is happening back in town?

"Thank you, Urfling," I say, and bid him farewell.

The interior of the fort is deathly quiet, and the few who remain exhibit the same symptoms of the citizens back home in Seyda Neen. They are melancholic and troubled, and it shows in every one of their nervous movements.

Climbing the spiral staircase in the warmly lit brick building, I arrive outside the office of the man who I have come here to see. A man who, for the past month or so, I have been desperately trying to avoid.

Under normal circumstances, I would not even consider raising my hand to knock on the door in front of me, but, for the people of Seyda Neen — as ungrateful as they appear to be — I will.

My knuckles rap against the wooden structure, and I hear shuffling in the room beyond.

Soon, the door opens, and a familiar face stands there to greet me.

The corners of the man's eyes crinkle, and his lips curl into a small smile.

"Well, isn't this a surprise."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank GOD we're out of Seyda Neen. I was starting to get claustrophobic there. We'll be back soon, though, so don't worry. Stay tuned :-)


	7. Chapter 7

"Hello, Larrius," I say, forcing myself to sound casual and bright.

The man's familiar smile broadens, and I cannot help but look away.

"Knight Errant Caecilia." He acknowledges me in an exaggerated, business-like manner. "What brings you to Fort Moonmoth? Presumably you are not here for a social-call."

Back to formalities. So that's how he's going to play it. "I am here on official business, yes."

"That little problem in Seyda Neen, I take it?"

His belittlement of our situation makes me both angry and nervous. Even after everything, I would have expected the man to be slightly sympathetic. "Indeed. The assaults on the village have increased. An Imperial Tax Agent was the most recent victim. She was attacked last night in her home."

The man appears non-plussed. "That is unfortunate news," the Legion Champion says, far too matter-of-factly for my liking. "As you may be aware, Seyda Neen is not alone in its struggle against attacks in the night."

"Solea was kidnapped."

Larrius leans one arm against the doorway to his office, confirming that he is not about to invite me in to sit down. "Yes. _Solea_." He speaks his last word as if he cannot truly believe what he is saying. "I was actually about to go have another look at her quarters. You may join me if you wish. We can talk more there."

At least he's not giving me the heave-ho; might be a good sign. "It would be my pleasure."

I follow the broad-shouldered Imperial out into the hallway. The man takes the lead, and I trail him toward the prison tower. Through the candle-lit halls of stone, our journey is made in a cool, awkward silence.

When we reach the door between the tower and the main area of the fort, the Imperial opens the door and ushers me inside. I follow his instruction, nodding in thanks for his chivalry.

Winding our way down yet another spiral staircase, we reach the bottom floor of the tower. With a bit of difficulty, Larrius locates Solea's chamber and we both step inside.

The chamber's interior is in extreme disarray. Broken candlestick holders lay on the floor, as do the shattered remains of several jugs of mazte. Scorch marks line the walls, and what is left of a burned tapestry still hangs on the wall. Perhaps the most alarming amongst the chaos is the thick, dry smattering of blood coating the bed, dresser, and far wall.

"By the Nine..." I whisper.

"Everyone who has seen this room has remarked the same," the Imperial beside me says. "Whoever did this must have been one hell of a warrior, and it must have been an incredible fight."

"Any witnesses?"

"Not a one. No-one even heard anything; not even Corvus who lives just a ways down the hall."

"Any theories?" I continue, hoping that his answer to this question will be positive.

Larrius scratches his sweaty temple with a thumb. "Not really. All we know is that whoever did this wanted Solea for some reason. They did not flee Fort Moonmoth with a body in tow just to hide evidence. Their intent here was to extract, not to kill."

I nod in positive appraisal of the man's analysis. "Why Solea..." I say, more to myself than him.

"Could be any reason," the Imperial says dismissively. "But regardless of that reason, we're going to do everything we can to find her."

I allow myself to dwell upon my thoughts for a time, considering the possibilities that this new data presents, before I say more. "Did this guy leave any tracks?"

"Not one."

"So, let me get this straight," I begin. "This fort was attacked by some guy, in the dead of night, whose goal was to kidnap someone for a purpose unknown. They entered undetected, and left the same way. Sounds like a familiar story, Larrius."

Now, he scratches his chin. "Are you suggesting that the man who plagues your area and the person who kidnapped Solea are one in the same?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"So what would you have us do?" the man asks.

I consider my next words carefully; even if properly sold, I do not believe Larrius will be particularly open to this plan. "Give me more men," I say, opting to take the direct approach.

The man smiles amusedly, but I can see in his eyes that he is considering my request. "Name me one good reason I should do that."

"It is obvious that the madman responsible for what is happening in Seyda Neen is based somewhere nearby. The attention he gives to the village is a clear sign. If we can locate this monster's hideout," I say, looking Larrius directly in the eye, "we might just find Solea."

Larrius places his hand on his chin and takes a few steps away from me, seemingly weighing up his options. His blue and silver Imperial armour glistens in the dim light as he does so. The man still wears the basic armour of an Imperial solider — a way of connecting with even the lowest of rank under his command. Watching him standing even taller than I just a few feet from me, I can see why I was once attracted to this man. I experience a pang of regret about the fact that those days over, but the feeling only lasts a moment. I know, now more than ever, that I did the right thing.

"No," he says quietly.

"No?" I repeat flatly, the cynic in me unsurprised. "So you would prefer waste all of your resources sending teams to every corner of Vvardenfell rather than spare a few soldiers to do something that might quickly see the matter resolved?" I take a step toward him, coming to a stop well inside his personal space. "Need I remind you, Larrius, a soldier's life hangs in the balance here? You are expending precious time that may be used to find her. I urge you to reconsider!"

He thinks again, but, somehow, I already know his answer.

"No," he reiterates. "The one who attacked us last night managed to do so because we were caught unawares. Tonight, and on all subsequent nights for the time being, we will stand at the ready. I will not spread my forces thin and leave us unprotected. Seyda Neen will have to do deal with its problems on its own."

My earlier feelings of nostalgia around this man are gone, replaced with a dark, burning hate. "Is this really about protecting Fort Moonmoth, Larrius?" I ask, quietly but with unmistakable force. "Or is it something else?"

Recognition sparks in the man's eyes; he knows about what I speak. "You should leave now, Ithaca Caecilia. What you seek cannot be found here."

I consider arguing, but attempting to reason with this man is a likely futile pursuit. Agreeing with Larrius' last point, I turn on my heels, and head for the door.

Storming through the labyrinth of stone passageways, I manage to find my way outside. There, a man waiting outside the fort's main entrance sees me and makes a beeline in my direction.

Under normal circumstances, I would not be concerned by his approach. In these conditions, however, my hand comes to rest around the handle of my sword, readying myself for trouble.

"Knight Errant Ithaca Caecilia?" the man — a lanky character of no more than eighteen years — asks.

"Yes," I answer cautiously.

When I do, the man digs into a satchel slung over his shoulder. On that satchel, I finally see the insignia; this man is an Imperial courier.

From it, he removes a letter which he carefully hands to me.

Digging into my own pack, I give the man a few septims, and he departs.

Pushing my finger through the paper, I tear my way inside. The envelope contains a single sheet of paper. This paper bears a mere three sentences, and an elaborate, cursive signature.

"I heard you're looking for help. If you're interested, you can find it at Desele's House of Earthly Delights. I'll be waiting."

When I see the signature, I immediately roll my eyes.

* * *

 **A/N:** Only a short one today. I was going to include the next scene in this chapter, but I ended up deciding against it because there's way too much material. Personally, I prefer the occasional short chapter in stories (provided they don't skimp on the details); they keep things moving. That being said, in general, I'd like to stick to around 2,000 words per chapter if I possibly can. Until tomorrow :-)


	8. Chapter 8

A Dunmer flying over a table is the first sight to greet me when I arrive downstairs.

A Nord smashing a chair over the back of another is the second.

"Ithaca, thank the Gods you are here!" Desele, the short, shirtless proprietor of Vvardenfell's infamous House of Earthly Delights shouts over the chaos. "Please do something!"

The Dunmer, swiftly recovering, overturns one of the tables, creating a shield between himself and the attacking Nord. When he does, a stocky Imperial jumps into the fray, raining blows into the Nord's stomach and toppling him over.

Seeing the larger man go down, the Dunmer rounds the table. In tandem with his Imperial companion, he begins to bludgeon the Nord with a relentless series of kicks to his back and head.

As an officer of Imperial law, as well as out of duty to my acquaintance, I feel an obligation to sort this out. As such, I approach the scene quickly, passing two naked women screaming hysterically on their way to the door.

"What's going on here?" My powerful voice easily penetrates the chaos, but, if they have heard me, they do nothing to show it. Their attack continues.

"Enough!" I say, shoving the Imperial away and turning to the Dunmer to do the same.

The Imperial stumbles back awkwardly, obviously intoxicated. Then, he runs back to the Nord and resumes his offensive, seemingly oblivious to my presence.

"I said that is enough!" Again, my protests are for naught; their assault continues.

This time, I shove both men away from the Nord — now covered in blood and missing a tooth — but the effect of my interference, again, is only momentary.

Infuriated by their lack of response, I decide to just nip all of this in the bud.

The sickening crunch of jaws meeting steel sounds, blood splashes, and the bar goes quiet, the chaos ended.

I step over the three bodies at my feet and approach Desele leaning back against the bar. Her earlier hysteria is gone, and she rests, arms crossed, against the wooden counter. She eyes the men bleeding all over her floor with nothing but contempt. "It's going to take ages to clean that up."

"There's a fight every time I come in here nowadays," I note. "Either a bouncer or a cleaner, Desele — pick one, take the financial hit, and make them a permanent member of your staff." I take great pains to look into her eyes as I speak, her large, prominent set of breasts tempting them lower.

"I suppose you are right," she says, straightening up. "What'll you have?"

"The usual and some information," I reply.

Her eyebrow raises at that. She pours me a glass of brandy from the tap rising out of the wooden bar. "Information?"

I take the drink from her. Its contents appear as black as the void when viewed under the bar's signature red light. "I'm looking for a man..."

"You are?" Desele cuts in, shooting me a wicked smile. "Since when?"

My eyes roll. "Shut-up and let me finish."

"I'm looking for a... an Imperial male — middle-aged, 'bout six feet tall, and with a badly receding hairline. I'm due to meet this guy here, apparently. He didn't specify a time, so I'm guessing he's a regular. You know him?"

The Bosmer crosses her arms once more, and her face contorts into that same look of contempt she wore only minutes ago. The woman indicates in a direction behind me with her chin. "Is that who you're looking for?"

Turning around, I see a lone male sitting in the far corner of the room. Bathed in red light and wearing a self-satisfied smile upon his face, he takes a puff of his pipe and counts a large pile of septims on the table before him.

"That's him."

"Skooma?" I ask, approaching the man and settling into an occupied chair on the opposite side of the table.

He looks up and takes the pipe from his mouth. His eyes run me up and down before he answers, lingering just a bit too long on my cleavage for my liking. "No. Corkbulb leaf." He spits some of it out onto the floor. "Horrible stuff."

I wince at the disgusting display. "I didn't know you could smoke that."

The man grins mischievously. "You can smoke anything if you put your mind to it."

His attention is caught by something behind me, and I rotate to see what it is. The naked dancers are returning.

His eyes return to me. "What are the chances of you taking your top off during this conversation?" the man asks.

"Absolutely zero," I return, unfazed. Having long heard stories of this man's exploits, nothing he can say could really surprise me.

His gaze finds its way down toward my chest again. "Pity," he says. "If that's the case, then we should move closer to the stage."

The man actually stands and beckons me to follow him to a table down the way, raking his mammoth pile of septims into a sack before he does. He wears no shoes, I notice, his bare feet exposed to the dark carpet on which he treads.

We sit. "How are you, Sellus?"

The ex-Legion commander of Seyda Neen inhales air from his pipe and then exhales, releasing a large cloud of smoke directly into my face.

"Give me that," I say. I lean over and extract the pipe from his mouth. Surveying the contents inside and taking in its scent, I hand it back to him. It is indeed corkbulb, and not the highly illegal skooma.

He returns the pipe to his mouth. "Fantastic," the man says in reply to my earlier question. He turns away from me to watch the tall Nord woman, centre-stage, perform an impressive array of moves around a recently installed pole.

"Life post-Imperial Legion suiting you?"

"See those two men over there," he says, waving in their general direction, his attention still firmly on the dancer. "They just bought me my own, personal yacht. On this one night alone, I made more than an entire year's salary in the Legion. So, yes, you could say that it is treating me very well."

I glance at the three still bodies currently being hauled away by a topless Khajiit. "How did they manage that?"

"Card game. High stakes. They go all-in. I make a few choice remarks suggesting that the Nord is cheating. One thing leads to another. Alcohol gets involved. They end up out cold, and, tomorrow morning, they wake up sans a large chunk of their life savings." The man raises his arm to hail Desele for another drink.

"So, you manipulated the situation in order to steal their money."

"Right."

"You do know you're talking to an officer of the Imperial Legion, right? You've just confessed to a crime. I could take you in."

"You could," the man says, his eyes still fixed on the stage. "But you won't."

"And what makes you say that?"

Finally, he turns me. "Because you need me," he says.

My mouth remains firmly shut. There is nothing to say. The man is right.

He shifts in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee, and takes a puff of his pipe. "Your boyfriend, Larrius Varro, proved useless. Am I right?"

Biting my tongue, I nod.

The man cackles loudly. "So typical of Varro. An annoying pustule on the rear of the Legion."

"A pustule who cast the deciding vote in your dismissal," I remind him.

The man looks at me again, and his face noticeably hardens. "The Legion had neglected to pay me my salary for two months prior to my dismissal. Every time I asked the clerks about it, it was the same story. 'We're a little bit behind, Mr Gravius; by next week it should come through'. And there I am, in the dead of winter, barely able to afford firewood, while those bastards in Ebonheart have servants bringing them grapes shipped special from Valenwood."

I sigh, having heard this story, from a variety of sources, many times before. "It was an error, Gravius. They weren't trying to stiff you; it was just a mistake."

"That's what you say," the man says. "But you don't know the full story."

I close my eyes, resigned to having to sit through more of the tale.

"How much do you know about Varus Vantinius, Ithaca?" he asks, moving conspiratorially toward me.

My brow furrows in confusion. "He is the Knight of the Imperial Dragon," I say. "Leader of the Imperial Legion in Vvardenfell."

Sellus Gravius shakes his head. "Of course," he says, annoyed. "But I mean, what do you know about the man personally?"

"Ah, he grew up in Cyrodiil," I say, quickly retrieving any relevant information. "Lives in the recently constructed Vantinius mansion near Ebonheart. Has a wife and two kids, both of whom live in the Imperial City."

When I mention the last point, his eyes light up. "Did you know that his wife and kids visited Vvardenfell two years ago?"

"No," I reply. "I thought his wife hated Vvardenfell."

"She probably does now," he says. "Larissa Vantinius' boat made a stop in Seyda Neen on its way to Ebonheart. I, as Legion commander, made sure that her overnight stay was comfortable." He flashes me a delinquent smile. "She was _very_ appreciate of my efforts."

I don't believe it. "You _slept_ with her?"

The man sits back, smugness on his countenance. "That I did. But, to be fair, so did half of the Imperial City. And if Varus had a problem with that when he found out, it should have remained a personal matter, one solved man to man. My downfall should not have been orchestrated by the manipulation of official channels. My dismissal from the Legion was entirely unjustified."

It takes me a moment to speak. I am unsure if the man is telling the truth, but, I suppose that, for the moment, it's all academic anyhow.

The man senses my scepticism. "You know, I still hear stories about you," he says, his eyes narrowing. "Knight Errant Ithaca Caecilia — promotion via blowjob."

A fire that I had thought had long been extinguished grows inside of me. "Some men in the Legion do not take well to a woman being in a position of power over them. Despite their rumours, however, I did earn my rank."

"I do not doubt that you did," he says with an earnestness in his voice that I did not expect. "It would be nice if you extended to me the same benefit. Not required; just nice."

"Let's see how we go."

He nods. "Now, onto business. You need men, and, as luck would have it, I have some available."

"How do you know I need men?" I ask, this having puzzled me since Moonmoth.

"I have my sources. And I know that Vantinius hasn't even responded to your requests for supplies, little own those for soldiers."

I could press him to reveal how exactly he's accessing classified Legion information, but, at the moment, I do not care. "How much do you charge?"

"300 septims per man, per day."

My eyes widen at the exorbitant fee. "You are a thief, Sellus Gravius! Why even bother with mercenary services if you made such a killing tonight?"

A grin falls over the man sitting opposite me. "Because I have plans, Knight Errant Caecilia," he answers cryptically. "And why should you care about the coin? It's Legion money! Don't return the surplus at the end of the year. Use it! Your only alternative is to waste days trekking up to Gnisis and organising something with Gaenor there."

Shaking my head, I relent. "Fine. 300 septims per day. How many men in your company?"

"30, including myself."

Wow. With that many men padding out our forces, this shouldn't take long. "What are their qualifications?"

"Mostly drop-outs from the Imperial Legion. Few ex-Hlaalu Dunmer. Great fighters, those ones. We've even got a former Ordinator in our ranks."

"How did you all meet each other?" I ask, though I know I shouldn't.

Another grin. "Here and there. Do we have a deal?"

I rise, and extend my hand to him. "We do. I expect to see you and your men at the Census and Excise office in Seyda Neen tomorrow morning."

The man extends his own hand and we shake on it.

"What are you planning, Ithaca?" he asks. "How do you intend on dealing with this scourge attacking the town?"

Now, it is my turn to smile. "We're going on a hunt."

* * *

The heavy wooden door to the House of Earthly Delights closes behind me. The handle, agitated by the movement, produces a metallic clanking sound as it does.

Making my way out from underneath the red lantern marking the establishment, my footsteps echo through the quiet, empty streets. The evening markets are gone now, and the waterfront pavilion is deserted.

A weak gust of chilly air rushes past me, disturbing a few loose locks of blonde hair on its way. Placing those locks back behind my ears, a flash of lightning issues from behind the mountains.

I cannot see the stars, obscured as they are by a heavy blanket of nimbus. The smell of rain is thick in the air. Rain threatens to pour at any moment, and I curse the fact that it has chosen now to do so. The journey back home is not going to be comfortable.

As the first few drops begin to fall, I climb the stairs of the Silt Strider platform. The beast is not there, and there is no-one to greet me, adding the discomfort of waiting to that of being drenched.

Another lightning strike flashes, this one even closer than the last. It is followed shortly by a sustained, rumbling boom.

I seat myself of the edge of the platform and dangle my feet off the side. Looking through my pack, I find nothing which I can use to shield myself against the rain. As such, when the heavens finally open, it feels akin to sitting on the bottom of Lake Amaya.

I fix my gaze away from Suran and out toward the Ascadian Isles — the direction from which I expect the Silt Strider to come.

Hurry up, you bastards.

Just then, another flash of lightning ricochets across the buildings, grass and mountains. For a moment, the entirety of the area around Suran is visible to me, and, in that moment, I see something.

I stare intently at the spot, and await the next flash of lightning.

There it is again!

Through the dark and the rain, the storm illuminates a figure standing high above me, on the top of the mountains above the town.

I am able to glimpse it again when the lightning strikes a third time, its distant silhouette contrasting menacingly against the brilliant, white sky.

While I cannot be certain, I believe the figure to be staring at me.

My throat closes slightly at the disquieting sight, and my heart beat begins to quicken. Despite my fear, however, I want to know who (or what) this is.

Just as I begin to rise to investigate, however, a fourth strike reveals that the figure is gone.


	9. Chapter 9

I am dreaming.

Out of a hazy twilight, the indistinct face of an Imperial woman comes into view. The woman is beautiful, and she bears a gentle smile.

The woman reaches toward to my face, her warm fingers gracing my skin with their presence. Those fingers flow around my face and push into my hair, leaving a trail of pleasant tingles in their wake.

With this woman, I feel safe. Safer than I have ever felt before. The sensation makes me realise just how unsafe I generally feel, constantly having to be the protector rather than the protected. The woman's presence is calming, soothing, like nothing could ever happen to me inside her arms.

Her face disappears, then, but I feel it still, nuzzling into the side of mine. Her warm exhalations there feel wonderful, each one teasing my ear.

The woman's body presses into mine, and I am folded into her caring embrace. Inside that embrace, I feel as though I could sleep forever.

Then, I realise that this is not a dream.

"Ithaca..." she breathes. "Ithaca, you're gonna need to wake up soon, honey. They're waiting for you."

My torpor is broken, and reality asserts itself unpleasantly with a deep, pulsing pain in my head.

We are together under these covers, the woman and I. How we got this way is a mystery to me. The candle in my private quarters has long since gone out, but a sliver of light still filters in through a crack in the door, allowing me to see my companion's face.

"What are you doing in here?" I say, my voice slight. "Who is waiting for me?"

"A group of mercenaries showed up this morning looking for you, but you were asleep."

Images of me stumbling off the Silt Strider and grunting all of the relevant information at Ganciele on my way to bed last night flash through my mind. Seems as though Sellus Gravius did come through for us.

"I'm so tired," I tell her.

"I know you are," the woman says softly, continuing to run her fingers through my hair. "But it is getting late, and I am told that you have things to do."

I sit bolt upright at the mention of the time. "How late is it?"

"Do not panic," she says. "It is only early evening. Albecius wanted me to wake you and tell you that he's taken care of everything during your rest."

"Excellent," I say, settling back down to enjoy just a few more minutes of comfort. "You still haven't answered my question," I point out.

She cocks an eyebrow.

"Why are you here with me?"

In the darkness, I can just make out that smile. "My job was to wake you, so I did."

"Was the crawling into bed part really necessary, though?" I ask, lacing my words with the humour in which they are intended.

"I could leave if you wish." Her words are gruff, but her smile betrays her.

"No." I wrap my arms around the woman's middle, more out of reflex than anything else - an automatic reaction to being in bed with someone so physically close. But, upon hearing the small, contented sigh that issues from her in reply to my action, that automatic reaction becomes something more. I genuinely like this woman, I realise, as quirky as she may be, and that is not something I am often able to say.

The closeness of our bodies and the comfort of our quarters makes my eyes grow heavy. But then, a thought enters my mind which breaks the serenity. "What is your name?"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to ask," she says.

"And I was wondering how long it would take you to tell me."

"My name is Ellory," the woman says. She holds her hand out to me. "Pleasure to meet you."

Her words, coupled with the fact that we have already slept together and are now in bed, make me laugh. I swat her outstretched hand away.

"Where do you keep your matches?" she asks.

"By the dresser on your side," I say, reaching over her to retrieve them. Using one of the small, wooden sticks inside, I strike the side of the paper box, and a flame is born. Ellory then takes the match from me and lights an unburned candle by the door.

"I brought you something," she says, returning and hoisting her bag up from the floor. Now out of the covers, I am able to see that she wears only a shirt, as well an attractive set of linen underwear.

From the pack, the woman removes a dizzying array of sandwiches, all consisting of different ingredients. The sight of food reminds me how of hungry I am, and it requires a conscious effort to not salivate at the sight.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like," she explains, "but I am sure you will find something to your taste."

By my count, the woman has prepared six different kinds of sandwich. I train a sceptical eye upon her. "You seriously made all of these for me?"

She shrugs. "I was bored. Additionally, you should only select two - three at most. The other three I have promised to Fine-Mouth."

"Making friends, are we?" I say cheekily, reaching greedily toward the sandwich containing Cyrodiil beef. "Be careful, Ellory, you may get comfortable here. Then, you will be stuck in this place, just like me and everyone else."

She looks downward and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "I could think of worse fates."

I eat in silence while she watches me curiously, sitting cross-legged on the bed. Once I have taken my fill, the woman provides me with a canteen so that I may quench my thirst. I find myself almost overcome with affection at the girl's gestures. "Thank you so much for doing this, Ellory," I say, the woman's name rolling smoothly past my lips.

She beams at my acknowledgement of her efforts. "No problem at all."

"There is another thing for which I am also grateful," I say.

"Oh?"

"You saved a life the other night."

"Ah," she says, leaning back.

Having already eaten two, I move to demolish another. By no measure is this woman a good cook, but I appreciate the sustenance (and the thought) regardless.

"How did you manage that?" I ask, having been wondering since before departing for Moonmoth. "How did you know that something was wrong in the village?"

"I have my methods," she replies, her answer being far too cryptic for my liking. I place a beseeching hand on her smooth, bare knee. "Ellory..."

She sighs. "I am an alchemist by trade. I recently developed a mixture that enables the user to hear things even when they are great distances away. I merely kept an ear out for anything suspicious."

"Okay," I allow. "What exactly did you hear?"

"The only footsteps in a sleeping Seyda Neen," she answers. "And the unmistakable sound of a paralysis spell being cast."

Ever so slightly, my jaw slackens at her accuracy. "You are correct. The victim was indeed paralysed," I say. "Why did you not tell me of this concoction sooner? It could afford us a significant advantage over our enemy!"

She shakes her head. "It was only a prototype, Ithaca. Even with the right equipment and the required ingredients, it will take me much time to reproduce. I was only testing it the other night; it is not yet a product."

The woman places her arm on my shoulder. "I looked for you yesterday, you know, but I couldn't find you. If it were not for Albecius, I would have believed you dead. That guy did one hell of a lot of damage on his way out."

"He definitely did," I say. "Must have taken quite a fall from that second story. At the very least, I hope that the events of the other night will have at least given him pause. With any luck, he'll decide Seyda Neen isn't worth it anymore and leave us all alone."

"To terrorise another town?" the woman asks.

I rise from the bed and gather up the various pieces of my armour. "Hopefully not."

The woman gets up, too, pulling a pair of slim-fitting black pants over a set of luxurious hips. She saunters over to me.

Having wriggled into my blacks, I move to put on my cuirass. It is an invariably difficult task, which is why that, when the woman assists me in holding it in place and clipping it on, I am immensely grateful. Eventually, my body is fully encased in the golden armour.

The woman takes a step back and takes me in from head to toe. "Very nice."

"I am inclined to agree," I say, and she grins.

I move toward the door. The woman's voice, however, halts my approach.

"Ithaca," she says, moving around in front of me. "Albecius told me that those men are here because you are organising a hunt."

"You heard correctly," I respond.

"Excellent!" she announces, the corners of her mouth set apart wide. "When do we leave?"

It takes me a moment, but her words finally register.

" _We_?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry about the delay getting this chapter out; didn't have it in me yesterday. I was originally going to cut straight to the next scene, but I felt that we needed a scene with Ellory. She's been gone far too long for my liking :-)


	10. Chapter 10

The soft sound of water being agitated by Sellus' oar accompanies us during our short journey out of the bay. He, Ellory, and I weave our way underneath the leafless trees arching above us atop a small, wooden skiff. To our right, the sea stretches out into infinity, its only feature the reflection of the full moons casting a line of white over its roiling surface. That surface is deceitfully calm, its stillness lulling me into a false sense of security that almost makes me forget the danger of our current mission.

Ahead of us, on the approaching shore, our target can be seen. The innocuous wooden door of Sarys Ancestral Tomb comes into view, and, upon seeing it, something tells me that we are finally at the right place. After conducting a thorough sweep of Nimawia Grotto, Thelas Ancestral Tomb, and Aharunartus, this is the only place on our list that the three of us have yet to check. Sarys was always the most likely candidate in my mind to be the lair of the madman attacking Seyda Neen, but there is something else about this rarely visited spot that makes me think that we're finally on the right track.

Silently, we make landfall, the curved surface of the boat driving gently up the small island's shore and coming to a stop.

Sellus disembarks first and helps Ellory and I out of the vessel. He and the woman tie the boat to a nearby tree, while I conduct a brief survey of the area. The island is tiny, allowing me to complete my task in under a minute.

On my way back, I fix a pair of nervous eyes on the village in the distance. Ten soldiers stand guard over Seyda Neen at this very moment, several armed with Detect Life scrolls to maintain their watch even in the darkness. Between that, the abundant light from the moons above, and the Grand Pharos, I hope that the village will remain safe in our absence.

Even from here, the yellow pinpricks of light from the lanterns hanging outside the titanic cantons of Vivec can be seen. From the land around those structures in the east to the base of the mountains to the west, my teams are searching everything from caves to egg-mines looking for our quarry's hideout.

I intended the searches to be carried out at night so that they may be done in stealth. The sheer number of soldiers active in the area, however, would tip off even the most inattentive enemy. Even as far away as I am now, I can see teams D and E making their way toward Samarys Ancestral Tomb and that old shipwreck inside the mouth of the Odai River. Hrisskar and Ganciele are with both of those teams, and it is due to their presence that I pray for the teams' safety.

"Ithaca," Ellory whispers, placing her hand upon my shoulder. I turn to her, her heavenly face a light shade of blue in the twilight. "We're ready."

I nod to Sellus who awaits us by the door, and he returns my gesture.

Flicking the latch, he slowly opens the door and steps aside.

With a creak, the construction swings inward, and a tunnel appears inside. Reluctantly, we enter.

A dim, golden glow fills the narrow passageway that we walk down. The light originates from the many enchanted, perpetually burning candles lining the walls. All of us remain silent, keeping watch for the undead which can always be found inhabiting such halls.

These ancestral tombs are a common sight in Morrowind. Many native Dunmer, after interring the remains of their deceased in a City of the Dead like Necrom, construct such places to house those remains and their owner's worldly possessions. The constructions are often quite extensive, with many passages and levels that reach far into the ground. Undead guardians are a common sight in these places — spirits made to roam the halls for eternity to defend against grave robbers.

I lead the team while Sellus brings up the rear, both of us with swords at the ready. Ellory is in a place of protection between us, but there is something in her eyes that tells me that I should not be as worried as much about her safety as I am. The woman has exhibited no fear during our sweeps of the other target locations tonight, and has helped Sellus and I out on several occasions with a few well-placed shock spells. Even with two highly-trained soldiers to defend her and some moderately powerful spells at the ready, however, these places are beyond creepy. Still, the girl exhibits no fear. Whether that is due to ignorance or assurance, I do not know. Regardless of the reason, I am happy that she has proven an asset on the mission. Neither Sellus nor myself were particularly happy about her insistence to tag along, and we both had doubts about her arguments that she would be useful.

The passage quickly opens up into a large room, its centrepiece a circle filled with gravedust out of which sticks a half-buried skull. We have yet to encounter any undead that seek to block our way, and their absence is as unsettling to me as their presence.

Sellus walks over to a pedestal near the far wall and picks up an object that rests on its surface. He lifts it to a light for examination.

"Moon sugar," he says, holding the vial of the illegal substance up to us. He shakes it. "Half-empty, too. You know what that means, don't you?" "Signs of habitation," I respond.

"Or a ghost that knows how to have a good time."

Both Ellory's and my eyes roll.

I angle my sword toward the door in the corner of the room. "This way."

My companions follow me through the indicated door. What we see in this next room makes my suspicions about this place being the right one ever so slightly rise.

Equipment, furniture, and supplies are strewn all over the floor of this chamber. Axes, maces, swords, and pieces of cheap armour lie broken all over the floors, in amongst the remnants of what were once tables and chairs. Food is scattered all over the place, and shattered bottles lie in puddles of the liquids they originally contained. Based on the scene before me, it is obvious that this seemingly deserted ancestral tomb was once home to a great many people. All of these former inhabitants were armed, and whatever made them leave was powerful enough to make them do so quickly, forcing them to leave much of their equipment behind.

The three of us all exchange glances, before turning our attention toward the far corner of the room. There, the entrance to an unexplored hall beckons. Trying to conceal my gulp, I step over the rubble, and make my way toward that entrance.

This passageway is much darker than the others, something owed to the many enchanted candles which have been ripped from the wall. I tug at one of the sconces on my way past. Even when I put my full-force behind the motion, it does not budge. Whatever removed these candles from the wall possessed incredible strength, far beyond that which I would have thought possible of an average human.

The hallway terminates in another room containing a second circle and shrine. A familiar scent hangs heavy in the air.

"Skooma," I whisper, and Sellus nods in agreement.

Indeed, inside several of the many boxes in this room, several vials of skooma and moon sugar can be found.

"Must have been a storage room," I say, allowing the volume of my voice to reach a normal level. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one looks at it), this place is clear. There are no other exits. This is the end of the line, and we have encountered nothing.

"Smugglers must have been using this is a base," Sellus theorises. "It's a good idea; once you clear out the undead, this place'd be perfect, if not a little irreverent."

I sit upon one of the boxes, trying to sort between my feelings of relief and frustration. "Let's hope the other teams have found something."

Sellus sheathes his sword. "Only one way to find out." He indicates the hall we just came down.

I stand and support myself on my sword. "Very well."

As Sellus and I begin to exit the room, however, a voice stops us.

"Guys." Ellory's deep, sing-song voice reaches our ears and we rotate to face her.

On the far side of the room, the woman kneels beside a large square of carpet, one corner in her hand. Underneath that carpet is the outline of what is, unmistakably, a trapdoor!

"Good work, Ellory!" I whisper, redrawing my weapon and joining her.

Together, we lift the heavy slab of metal. Inside there is nothing but a darkness that could go on for eternity down into the earth. A ladder descends into this darkness, inviting us down.

"I don't like this," Sellus says, and I very much agree. "Shame we don't have any Night Eye potions on us."

Ellory stands and looks down into the depths. "I could toss a light spell down there, but there goes the element of surprise."

Wincing, I realise that, eventually, one of us is just going to have to suck it up and go into that tunnel. As the leader of this party, that burden falls to me.

Placing my foot on one of the first rungs of the ladder, I feel a gentle grip on my arm. Ellory stares at me, eyes wide with concern.

Her arm does not linger long, and slides away. "Be careful," she says.

"Thanks," I reply.

I glance down into the ominous void beneath me. "I don't know how deep this is. How far do you think your light spell will reach?"

"Miles. Why?"

"Wait three minutes, then toss it down into the tunnel."

"Will do."

I plant the sole of a shaky foot on a lower rung, and then repeat the process until I am enveloped by darkness. The cold metal is rusty; definitely part of the original structure.

Soon, the faces of Sellus and Ellory are far in the distance.

The air here is thin and laden with humidity, shallowing my breaths and causing my skin to itch. I can't imagine anyone being able to spend too much time down in this place.

Continuing my descent, a horrible smell forces its way into my nostrils. I recognise the scent immediately.

It is the smell of death.

Eventually, my foot does not find a lower rung. Instead, it comes to rest on a smooth floor.

Sword in hand, I await Ellory's spell in the pitch, evil black.

Never have my ears been so devoid of stimuli; only the sounds of my shallow breaths penetrate the silence.

I have little idea of what I will see when my surroundings are revealed; someone or something could be standing right next to me and I would have no way to know.

My grip around the handle of my sword tightens, and I brace myself to meet whatever horror may be in here to greet me.

My mind conjures images of monsters I have never wanted to imagine, along with a thousand different scenarios resulting in my death, each more terrifying than the last. Whatever the reality is, it'll have to pretty shocking to top some of the thing's my brain is coming up with right now.

Just when I believe I can take the anticipation no more, it comes.

A blinding flash of light illuminates the entire tunnel, and a large room before me is revealed.

When it does, I cannot contain my scream.


	11. Chapter 11

Bodies.

Human bodies.

Some still bearing flesh on their skeletons.

Others picked clean by maggots.

Surrounding me on all sides.

At least twenty, perhaps more.

Silences closes in around me.

Except for the distant shouts of those above.

I've seen a lot of things in my time.

But this is too much.

Too much death.

Too much horror.

And too much evil.

I need to get out of here.

But I also need to stay.

Breathing through my lifted shirt, I move into the chamber.

Amongst the mangled limbs.

Amongst the broken bones.

Nobody here died peacefully in this place.

These people were not murdered.

They were savaged.

And curiously, none of them left a even single drop of blood behind.

Moving further into the chamber, one of the bodies catches the attention of my watering eyes.

The body bears a filthy set of Imperial steel amour.

This was one of the Empire's soldiers.

Kneeling down before the body, I tilt the remains of its face to mine.

My head hangs low.

It is Solea Nuccusius.

I release the head.

It swivels limply back into its original position.

That's when I see Solea's neck.

And that's when I see the marks.

And that's when I know that we have made a horrible, horrible mistake.

Springing upright, I run to the exit.

Footfalls can be heard on the ladder above, as well as my companions' worried cries.

The light spell fades.

The chamber succumbs to the darkness.

A disturbance in the pinprick of light above lets me know that Sellus and Ellory are well on their way down.

"Get back up there, Gravius!" I yell. "And do not let Ellory take another _step_ down here!"

I leap onto the ladder and begin my swift ascent.

Relief hits me the moment I begin to leave the chamber behind.

Soon, Sellus Gravius blocks my way. "Hurry up, Sellus, you fool! We need to get topside. Now."

"What's going on?" he asks, quickening his pace.

"It's a vampire, Sellus," I explain. "It's a gods damned vampire."

"Okay, it's a vampire. What's the rush?"

"Vampire aren't alive," I continue. "Detect Life potions don't work on them. We must return to Seyda Neen post-haste!"

Eventually, we surface from the tunnel and out into the chamber.

Ellory's eyes are filled with concern, but I haven't time to think about that right now.

"Let's go."

We dash back through the dark passageway, through the first chamber and then back up the entrance tunnel. Slashing my sword through the rope, we jump on the skiff and Sellus and I begin to row.

So hurried are our efforts and so focused our thoughts that, when we notice the ship silently moving toward us in the darkness, I yelp in surprise.

Sellus and I dig our oars into the water to put the brakes on, just averting collision.

The darkened ship crosses our path soundlessly, moving quickly out into the moonlit ocean.

"Friends of your's?" Sellus asks.

"I don..." I begin to answer, but the sound of a distant scream cuts me off.

All heads jerk toward the sound, and then, before our eyes, an enormous streak of white light shoots out from Seyda Neen and into the sky.

"Signal flare," Ellory says.

"Without question," I confirm. "Push on!"

Our relentless assault of the water beside the boat begins again.

Under the white light from two subsequent flares, we race across the bay.

Finally, we hit land.

The boat lodges against the soil of the shore near the footbridge and all three of us shoot out toward the square.

The village is crawling with soldiers, all heading in different directions. Their arbitrary movements make my stomach sink.

"Albecius!" I call out. I catch one of Sellus' men by the arm as he runs past. "Where is the battlemage?"

He points down toward the lighthouse.

Sellus, Ellory and I sprint off in its direction.

The shape of Albecius Colollius grows increasingly distinct as we near the lighthouse. The battlemage merely stands beside the tower, bathed in yellow light, staring out into the open ocean.

"What's going on here?" I demand of the solider, more than a little annoyed that he's not doing more than just loitering around. Sellus and I desperately gulp in air, trying to catch our breaths.

"Socucius Ergalla was taken," the solider says absently, his eyes still fixed on the moonlit sea. "Not sure when. Not sure how. Didn't see it coming. Only found out when we heard his pleas for help in the distance."

My teeth clench, the battlemage's dreamy words and lack of action almost make me want to deck the guy where he stands. "And didn't you chase after him?"

"I sent a team out in the direction of his screams," the man replies. "But I doubt they will find him."

Gravius and I exchange a nervous glance.

"Why is that, Albecius?" Sellus demands.

He extends an index finger in the direction of the ocean. "Look."

In the distance, sitting between the line of sea and sky, is a ship. It's distinctive silhouette is unmistakable; it is the same ship that passed us on our way across the bay.

"Nallea saw that ship pass out of the waters near Seyda Neen only minutes ago," the battlemage explains. "You wanted to know where this man is coming from? I'd say that's it."

I shake my head. "We found his hideout, Albecius."

His looks at me, surprised.

"His lair is out there in Sarys. Not on that ship. He is a vampire," I say. "That's why our Detect Life potions never worked."

Albecius is about to respond but Ellory cuts in. "Are you sure about that, Ithaca?"

I do not hesitate to answer. "The evidence was clear."

"Is it?" she continues. "Why would a vampire want to steal parts from someone's body?"

For a moment, I find myself lost for words.

"And it isn't out of the question that this man possesses a ship," Sellus weighs-in, wiping several beads of sweat from his brow. "As we know, Sarys is not a mere swim away. It is almost certain that he knows his position has been made. He knows he will not be able to return to that place again."

I process my companions' words; they both make good points. I cast my eyes back out to the sea. There, the boat still sits silently, well out of our reach.

"Then the solution is obvious," I announce finally. "We're going to need a ship."

I turn on my heels to head back to the village.

When I do, to my surprise, I find that were are being watched.

What looks to be like every citizen in Seyda Neen has assembled themselves up in the town. They stare down upon us wordlessly, lanterns in their hands and anger in their eyes.

One of them steps forward from the lines. It is the Altmer, Arille. His golden skin shines brightly in the light from the Grand Pharos above.

"Knight Errant Caecilia." He practically spits my name.

I approach cautiously and tip my head. "Arille. What's going on here?"

"We are here to ask you the same thing," he says in his crisp, intelligent accent. "We have a right to know what is going on in our town and we have come to exercise it."

"Okay," I respond carefully, elongating the word. "But this is not the time or place. Come to my office tomorrow, and I will give you the answers you seek."

The man's mouth contorts into a rather unattractive smile, and commotion breaks out across the crowd. "No, Miss Caecilia," he says. "We want to know what is happening — right now."

The chatter quiets, and the crowd waits to see how I will respond to Arille's words.

"I do not take too kindly to ultimatums, Arille. I am doing everything in my power to protect this town. I understand that you are scared. I understand that you are angry. But information about our plans and defences cannot be disseminated so freely. You must have faith that everything that can be done is being done, and that this threat will soon be eliminated."

He scoffs, and the murmuring returns. "Have faith? In you, Caecilia? You have been investigating these attacks for weeks, and the frequency of them has only increased. What have you done that inspires the faith you believe we should place in you?" The group's spokesperson begins to pace. "How many more of us will need to suffer at the hands of this madman before something is done? How many of us will have to be taken before we get justice?"

He stops his wanderings across the dark soil and looks me in the eyes. "Adraria Vandacia was right. You are useless, Caecilia. Socucius' abduction tonight, as well your bringing of this buffoon, Gravius, back here, proves that you are truly incapable of delivering us from this evil."

Sellus visibly flinches at the man's words.

"You have let this go on far too long," Arille continues, "and we have all suffered tremendously as a result. Well, we refuse to spend another sleepless night in our beds, whispering words of calm to our children that we we ourselves do not believe. Something has to be done."

I take a step forward. While I sympathise with the villagers' plight, I have had enough of this. "And so what are you going to do, Arille? We've conducted an investigation. We've set traps. We've canvassed the area. And tonight we believe that we've found the enemy's hideout. What exactly is there that you can do that we are not?"

The tradehouse owner's eyes narrow. "That will be the first thing I ask your replacement when he arrives."

His words hit me like an axe to the skull. "My _what_?"

"Your replacement," the guy repeats. "Tonight, a group led by myself will leave this place via a Silt Strider bound for Ebonheart. There, we intend to petition Varus Vantinius for your immediate removal as commander of the Legion's Seyda Neen garrison, and the institution of someone more equipped to deal with the cursed menace which haunts our town."

Sellus moves forward now, coming to a stop beside me. I feel Ellory arrive at my side shortly after, doing the same.

"See reason, Arille," Sellus warns. "Even if by some miracle Vantinius grants you an audience and removes Knight Errant Caecilia from office, you would be doing yourself a disservice. As a former Knight Protector and someone more than familiar with Legion procedures, I can tell you that there is no-one among our ranks that would have carried out this investigation any differently, or, for that matter, any better. That investigation has brought us close to apprehending the person responsible for these attacks. Having Miss Caecilia relieved from her duties now will put you all back to square-one."

Wow. Didn't expect a speech like that from Gravius. Neither did Arille, apparently, for his resolve has visibly wavered. His hard face has fallen slightly, and he appears far less assured. It does not take the man long, however, to gather himself.

"Thank you for your input, Mr Gravius," Arille says acerbically. "But the decision has been made."

The man turns to the crowd, holding his lantern high. "The Silt Strider departs in one hour. Anyone who wishes to accompany us to Ebonheart should meet us on the platform then. Come."

Arms spread wide, Arille shepherds the crowd away, and soon the streets of Seyda Neen are empty once more.

The moonlight wanes as the red and white orbs above disappear beneath a thick cloud.

Ellory's hand finds mine in the darkness, giving it a supportive squeeze.

"Thanks for that, Sellus," I say, genuinely grateful for him coming to my defence.

"No worries at all," the Imperial responds with a small smile. "What are you going to do now?"

I watch the light from the tradehouse disappear behind the closing wooden door. "The courier that sent the requisition to Vantinius' office confirmed that he took receipt of it. And yet, we are still waiting to receive the requested potions, as well as the requested men."

I shake my head. "The Legion doesn't care about Seyda Neen. And they're not going to divert resources from their precious land-grab up in Red Mountain, which, let's face it, is the only reason those bastards are there. Arille and his men haven't the slightest chance in Oblivion of getting someone else posted here. I am unconcerned."

Turning back to face the ocean, I bring a worried-looking Ellory to me, placing the woman inside the crook of my arm. "The only thing I am concerned about right now," I say, looking out over the woman and toward the black spot on the horizon, "is that thing out there."

"Attagirl," Sellus says, patting my back. "What's your plan?"

"Well, we could requisition an Imperial patrol ship from the naval offices in Ebonheart," I say. "Or, we could do something useful with our time. To that end..." I turn to face the former commander of Seyda Neen. "Do any of your buddies happen to own a ship?"

Sellus' eyes twinkle mischievously.

"They just might."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry this one took so long. Needed to regroup for a while to see how well I'm following my outline. It's important that I stick to the script on this one, because I'm writing toward one hell of an ending. I also want to make sure I tie up all the loose ends. Thanks a billion for leaving a review, person who I only know as 'Guest'. Updates should continue to be prompt — if you don't see a new chapter one day, expect one the next :-)


	12. Chapter 12

_The Temple does not acknowledge the existence of Western vampire hunting orders. Nonetheless, interviews with Temple officials persuade me that the Dunmer of Morrowind are experienced and knowledgeable in the handling of these menaces. On the other hand, they freely admit that even a large community of vampires might easily escape detection in the remote wastelands, or in the subterranean labyrinths of abandoned strongholds and wizard towers._

I adjust my posture and flip the page, continuing to skim the huge tome spread out on the table before me.

 _Vvardenfell's three known bloodlines differ greatly in their approach to prey. The Quarra bloodline features exceptional strength and endurance, and attacks in a state of ecstatic frenzy. Aundae vampires are potent spellcasters, seeking to hypnotize victims before feeding, while the swift and agile Berne clan vampires prefer stealth and ambush, first poisoning the victim with a bite, then withdrawing to a safe distance, returning to feed only when the prey has weakened._

I lean back into my chair and take my eyes away from the pages of _Vampires of Vvardenfell Vol I_. Swivelling around, I look out of the sole window in the wall of the shack in which I sit. A cool breeze enters through that opening, the refreshing gust tinged with moisture from the ocean outside. I close my eyes, allowing the breeze to play over my face for a time. Isolated from the turbulence of the outside world, listening to only the soft lapping of water against the shores and the seagulls soaring through the air, I can almost fool myself into believing that everything is okay.

Almost.

A series of knocks on the door to the shack rips me out of my reverie.

"Come."

Sellus enters the small space and walks over to me. His eyes fall on the book in front of me on his final approach. "What have you learned?"

"That I owe Amascus Endusa an apology," I say ironically, flipping one side of the book over. It slams into itself with a deafening finality and a borderline lethal spray of dust. "Apart from that, not much. I suppose the book is useful for a bit of background information, but there's nothing about our guy in here."

"Mmm," the man hums. "Remind me to return it to Ra'zhid on our way out. Apparently a wealthy collector is after it and he's on the brink of making a killing. Neither of us will survive should we neglect to see it safely back into his possession."

"Fine, fine," I say, still uncomfortable about having to deal with Sellus' contact in the Thieves Guild to attain the rare book. "How did it go with Baleni Salavel?"

"She said two words," Sellus replies. "Neither of them were nice."

I shake my head. "Did you explain to her the stakes?"

Sellus snorts. "Of course I did. Why else do you think she said no?"

The man comes toward me, and sits on the chair at my side. "Nobody is going to let us hire their ship and their services to pilot it, Ithaca; not knowing that it will mean putting themselves - and their ship - into incredibly grave danger. When I told her that's what we wanted her and her ship for, Salavel looked at me as though I was mad. As I've been saying to you: we really only have one option."

"I'm not stealing someone's ship, Sellus," I tell the man for the umpteenth time. "It's not going to happen."

"The captain of the ship I've told you about is a slave trader," Sellus says, frustration tinting his words. "The man trafficks in the buying and selling of human beings. Why do you care?"

"Because this is not Cyrodiil," I reply. "The slave trade is not illegal here."

"And that still does not change the fact that the man is scum," he retorts.

"Oh and the Thieves Guild aren't?"

The man pushes off his knees to stand. "I don't need to listen to this."

I catch the man mid-manoeuvre and force him to sit back down. "Sorry. Look, is there any way that we can just _ask_ the guy for his ship? I have money. We can pay."

Sellus snorts once more. "Rigmor Wry-Mouth is not a man with which one can reason. The Nord is incredibly volatile, to the point that I'd venture a guess and say that he's mentally ill. Even those whom he supplies baulk at the prospect of having to deal with him."

I seriously doubt that anyone can argue with simple septims, but I'd rather avoid the trouble if I can. "Is there _anyone_ else you can think of that might lend us a ship on short notice?"

"There's Collorvus in Gnaar Mok," he responds, scratching the back of his neck, "but that's at least a day's boat-ride away. Other than that, we could check in Ebonheart and Molgar Mar, but that will take even more time, and that route offers no guarantees of success. If you wish to save Socucius..."

"Then we have to act quickly. I know."

"Rigmor is scum, Ithaca," Sellus goes on. "The world will not miss him in his absence."

I gestate on Sellus' words for a time. This is not the first time I have heard the name 'Rigmor Wry-Mouth'. To my recollection, never has a good word been spoken about the guy. The Legion kept a close watch on his activities up until recently, after allegations of rape were brought against him during his stay in Mournhold. That watch has since been lifted, but he is still a cause of concern back in Ebonheart. From everything I know, Gravius is correct: if we were to simply kill him and take his ship as he is suggesting, the world would probably be a much better place for it. But, despite everything, I am still an officer of the Imperial Legion, and I do not take such flagrant disregard of the law so lightly.

"I want to talk to this guy," I say, standing and drawing the belt of my scabbard around my waist.

Sellus places his forehead in the palm of his hand.

I click the latch of the belt in place. "We'll talk, we'll make an offer, and, if things don't work out, then we'll take things from there."

"I would advise against just walking in there alone, Ithaca," Gravius warns. "As I said, the man is not to be trusted. If he gets even a whiff that you're Imperial Legion…"

"I'm not walking in there alone," I interject.

Sellus' brow furrows, perplexed.

"You're coming with me."

Now, his expression hardens. "Do you want a bet?"

"Do you want double your daily rate?"

Sellus thinks on that one.

"No," he says finally. "The only way I will even think about approaching that ship is with a sword in my hand. Otherwise," he continues, looking me straight into my eyes, "you're on your own."

My mouth contorts in anger. "You are a coward, Gravius," I tell him.

"A coward I may be," Sellus returns, moving toward the door. "But a dead coward, I will not be."

The entire shack shudders as the man slams the door.

* * *

Several minutes later, I find myself walking inside the familiar terrain of the Bitter Coast. Only a few minutes of travel is required away from Hla Oad — the tiny fishing village up the coast from Seyda Neen in which we have lodged for the day — to see the ship of which Sellus Gravius spoke.

The characteristic, curled tail of seagoing vessels in Vvardenfell comes into view through the leafless trees of the swamps in the distance. As I move closer, the entire outline of the ship is revealed, backed by the reds and purples of the evening sky.

Advancing closer still, I see several figures emerge onto the deck, all assembling on the side and looking directly at me.

Then, something whistles past me, missing my face by mere inches.

I rotate to look at the ground behind me. An arrow sticks out of the ground.

Throwing myself behind a tree, a man's voice sounds from the direction of the vessel.

"Stop right there!" With one eye past the tree's edge, I see that the voice comes from the tallest figure on the deck, standing in the middle of the lineup. "You will not enjoy what happens should you come further." Based on the crossbows I can make out in a couple of those guys' hands, as well as their apparent willingness to shoot, I do not doubt it.

Without leaving my position behind this tree, I cup my hands around my mouth and speak. "Rigmor Wry-Mouth?" My loud call echoes back from the mountains just a click away.

"That's right," he says, his tones hard and gravelly. "Who's asking?"

"I am Knig… My name is Ithaca Caecilia. I am here to make you an offer."

Silence.

"What kind of offer?" he finally asks.

"I require a ship and I am short on time. I am willing to pay you handsomely to borrow your ship and a pilot for the night, perhaps two. What do you say?"

More beats pass.

The tall figure on the boat motions to the figures beside him, who respond by lowering their bows.

"Come aboard, Ithaca Caecilia. We will talk."

Tentatively, I step out from behind the tree, and approach the ship.

Leaving the soft soil behind for the firm wood of the dock, I watch the men extend the boardwalk out from their vessel so that I may board.

My short journey here has left me drenched in sweat. The humid atmosphere, coupled with the robe I wear to conceal my Legion armour, makes me feel as though I am walking in my own, personal oven.

I worry about approaching the ship unescorted with so many men aboard, but it appears as though I have little choice. Between Sellus Gravius' refusal to accompany me, and Ellory's departure for Balmora this morning for her family meeting, I am on my own.

Seven soldiers stand around the perimeter of the ship, watching me as I ascend the plank. None of these men look like friendly guys. Their scrappy faces are matted with dirt and sweat, underneath which are distinctive patterns drawn in warpaint and scars. In the centre of the deck, there are several tables and chairs. At one of them sits a heavily-set, bearded Nord.

Rigmor Wry-Mouth.

He motions to the chair opposite him, and I take it.

The soldiers around us make no move to leave or relax. It appears that our meeting will be held with an audience.

"You would like to, ah, what did you say? 'Borrow' my ship?" he asks.

"That's right."

His small, calculating eyes meet mine and narrow. "For what purpose?"

I weigh up my words, but I figure that telling the unaltered truth will probably be the best idea here (not that I really have any other ideas). "I am tracking a vampire that plagues the village of Seyda Neen, just a ways down the coast. I have reason to believe that this man resides in a ship nearby. I require a ship of my own to locate and board that vessel, in order to save one of my friends who was kidnapped only last night. Time is of the essence, and I will need the vessel tonight."

The man's face remains neutral, and I am unable to gauge his reaction to my explanation. "You want my ship, as well as a pilot, to go and hunt a vampire?"

"That is correct."

"That is a very dangerous mission, Ithaca Caecilia. Vampires in Morrowind are not like the vampires from other countries. From what I have heard, they are smart, vicious, and overwhelmingly deadly. That being said," he continues. "I may be interested in loaning you my ship. But it will not come cheap."

Yeah, yeah. "How much?"

The man leans back and places his arms behind his head. He angles his chin into the evening air in thought. Behind him, the sun is beginning its ascent below the horizon, abandoning me here to the darkness.

"20,000 septims," he says.

It requires all of my effort to remain seated. "That is outrageous."

"Take it or leave it," he says. "That is my price."

"A man's life is at stake!" I exclaim. Then, I reel myself in. "Can you do me a better deal?"

A sly smirk spreads over the man's face; his first expression for the evening. "I know all about the man's life that is at stake," the guy says. "And I know all about what's happening in Seyda Neen." His eyes, once again, meet mine. "And I know all about you, _Knight Errant_ Ithaca Caecilia."

He raises his hand and motions to someone behind me.

The sound of many footsteps approaching and surrounding me can be heard. Soon, visuals accompany the sounds, and I see that I am barricaded in on all sides.

My pulse quickens. I know that I cannot fight my way out. I could probably take out Wry-Mouth on his own, but not all seven men all at the same time.

Rigmor Wry-Mouth stands, his giant figure towering over me in the dying light. He leans down over me, his hands on the table before me. "Do you really think I'd help out the Imperial Legion?" the man spits, sending putrid breath into my nasal passages. "After everything that you've done to me these past months?"

"The Legion and I aren't on particularly good terms, either," I say, through gritted teeth. It isn't really a lie.

The guy scoffs, and instructs one of his men to remove my robe. My golden Templar armour is revealed.

"Looks Imperial Legion, doesn't she boys?" The man addresses his cronies. Then, he leans down and speaks directly into my face. "You were a fool to come here, little Miss Caecilia," he says darkly. "If you wanted a ship, you should have asked that bastard, Varus Vantinius. Now, you will pay the price."

The man stands, straightening his entire body, a fortress of muscle and mass.

"But don't worry," he says, this time with a mock sweetness in his words and a smirk on his mouth. "If you're lucky, you may find that you enjoy it."


	13. Chapter 13

The pain in my head is the first thing I notice when I come to. It pulses deeply, excruciatingly, inside my brain. The dizziness hits me then, and my thoughts come slowly and indistinct. The blow to the head I copped before being dragged down here has definitely left me concussed.

Out of instinct, I lift my hand to put some pressure on my forehead in a lame attempt to stifle the pain. When my hand reaches shoulder-height, however, I realise that I cannot.

Thick, heavy circles of steel envelop my wrists, connected to a similarly thick and heavy metal chain. That chain terminates to a fitting on the floor, and its counterpart, connected to my other wrist, does the same.

Testing the chain's strength, I reef it away from the floor a few times. The fitting, however, does not budge. That's not going to work.

Turning my attentions to my surroundings, I find myself in the hold of a ship. Thankfully, the ship is unmoving, its only motion a gentle rocking from the waves intermittently buffeting the hull.

Water filters in from the roof of the space, dripping steadily onto my body and into the fabric of my blacks. My armour is gone, I realise, as is my sword. It isn't a surprise; I didn't really expect that Wry-Mouth would leave me armed and protected.

A dim, muted light filters in through the grated roof above me, casting a checkerboard pattern onto the floor. For the moment, all is quiet, and I appear to be the ship's only occupant.

Several minutes go by when all that can be heard is the constant din of rain bucketing down onto the top deck. As the rain increases, so does the amount of water which makes its way onto me. After a few minutes, I am thoroughly soaked.

Looking around, I desperately survey the area for anything I can to use to set myself free. The dark, wet, wooden floor is bare, however; my hopes of finding a small, metal object labelled 'Shackles Key' within reach have been thoroughly dashed.

Sitting here in the eerie silence, I wonder what Rigmor has in store for me when he returns. He and his men have obviously gone out for the evening — perhaps for a drink at Fat Leg's Dropoff — but they will no doubt be back soon. When they do, I am unsure of what will become of me. If the guy is insane enough to assault and then hold an officer of the Imperial Legion against her will, he would likely consider anything fair game.

Ideally, Rigmor would just have his fun and set me free, but I really don't see that happening. If he were to let me go, the wrath of the Legion would come down hard upon him. No, there's no turning back for Rigmor Wry-Mouth now. After the crimes that he has committed here today, the man has nothing to lose.

The footsteps come, then, as well as the loud shouts and ramblings of Nords who have had several tankards too much mead.

The light in the room increases slightly as the trapdoor at the far side of the room creaks open. Shortly after, boots appear on the ladder.

Within moments, Rigmor Wry-Mouth's gigantic form appears in its entirely. The guy heads straight for me.

My entire body tenses up at his approach. It isn't very often that I feel so vulnerable and defenceless. Without my armour, sword, or even hands, I am all but useless.

The man comes to a stop above me, looking down on me with that same emotionless expression from before.

Two men follow him down the ladder as he does, also coming to a stop above me on their boss' flanks.

"I trust that your stay has been comfortable so far, Ithaca Caecilia," Wry-Mouth says, to the sniggering delight of his cronies. "I am sorry that we do not have better accommodations available but your arrival was on short notice."

More laugher from the pair at his sides.

"Can we cut the melodrama, Wry-Mouth?" My words are snarky, but the quaver in them betrays me. "Do you have actually have a plan here? Or are you just going to stand there all night and try to kill me with generic bad-guy cliches?"

A massive pain erupts in my jaw as the back of his hand meets it at high velocity. My whole body shudders after the blow. The guy was in no way holding back.

"What do you want?" I yell at the three men. "Why have I been imprisoned like this?"

"Because we are not ones to let an opportunity slip through our fingers, oh grand officer of the Imperial Legion," Rigmor monotones. He makes no move to elaborate.

"Meaning?"

"Despite the Empire's attempt to discourage slavery in Morrowind by imposing taxes and licensing requirements on buyers and sellers, the demand for slaves has only increased. Nowadays, supply barely keeps up with demand, and we are always searching for more product to sell."

My courage returns slightly; at least this guy intends on keeping me alive. I should have plenty of time to formulate and execute a plan for escape. "Do you really think the Empire is going to allow you to kidnap one of its officers without investigation, Wry-Mouth? My friends know that it was you I came to see on the evening of my disappearance. The Imperial Legion will come down on you like a swarm of angry cliffracers when they find out what you've done."

The huge man raises a hand to silence me. "Leave the Empire to me. Right now, my only concern is getting you safely to Blacklight. A wealthy merchant there recently informed me that he is looking for a pretty Imperial woman just like you for his collection. I believe that we have finally found something that will fulfil his requirements."

I doubt Rigmor is lying. I've heard of people buying slaves for all kinds of things. They don't merely work the plantations.

I say nothing.

"While you're here, though," the man continues, leaning down beside me and running a thick, dirt-stained finger over my right cheek. "It is only right that we get some fun out of you, too."

It comes without warning, the feeling of a man's hand massaging one of my breasts. I jerk my face down for visual confirmation, and I witness the large, meaty paw giving the breast a series of gentle, infuriating squeezes.

The fury swells inside me, and I tip my head and body forward. The head-butt misses him by mere inches.

He pulls away.

"Ganos," Rigmor grunts to one of the men standing above us. "Hold her."

The young, blonde Nord on his left obeys instantly, the man's rough hands wrapping around my head and holding me back.

Rigmor is then free resume his terrible squeezing, adding another hand to the mix. When the kneading subsides and he begins to finger my nipples, however, I decide I can take no more.

I struggle desperately against the chains, an action which is met by a hearty laugh from all three men.

"Do not worry, precious," the man says. "If the rumours I've heard about you are true, you could do well to experience the touch of a man." His blank expression breaks, and he smiles. "Or three."

Giving them a final, almost painful squeeze, the man withdraws his hands from my person.

They soon return, however, when he places them under my black t-shirt and begins massaging the set of abs underneath.

Still, I struggle, knowing full well it is of no use. When the man moves his hand further north, I perform the only action left available to me.

I spit in my abuser's face.

Wry-Mouth recoils in disgust, wiping the dripping white ball from his face.

Again, his hand comes down hard, meeting my face in the same spot it did before. The world goes hazy for a few moments after it does, and lightheadedness takes me. The pain of the repeat blow was too great; I cannot withstand a hit like that again.

Rigmor's hand returns to my stomach, and I expect it to resume its explorations upward soon.

To my chagrin, however, it moves in another direction.

Down, underneath the band of my pants, the man's hand reaches.

My legs — bound also in the chains — are me helpless to resist his advances. I struggle, but it is no use. I close my eyes, and wait for it to come.

It never does.

I open my eyes in time to see Rigmor's hand retract out of my underwear, and witness he and his men scattering to the metal grate above.

"What's going on up there?" the Nord yells to the ceiling. "What the hell was that?"

Something answers, but it is not Rigmor's men.

That something makes my blood run cold.

It is a growl. A loud, high-pitched snarl that rings out across the valley and seems to reverberate right through you.

"I don't know," a distant, trembling voice returns.

A shadow passes over the grate, momentarily cutting out the dim light. Then an incredible, ear-splitting crash comes that rocks the entire ship.

A cacophony of shouts come from above, and Rigmor's men duck and scatter in fear.

The alien vocalisation echoes again, and I desperately pull on my chains to escape its doubtlessly evil source.

Another horrible crack sounds, and one of the shouts above turns into a scream.

I crane my neck to try and get a look at what is happening, but I remain blind to the events taking place outside.

Rigmor and his men scurry up the ladder and cower underneath the trapdoor with their swords drawn. They don't seem particularly enthusiastic about going up there and helping their friends. I do not blame them.

More screams echo throughout the hold, seemingly produced by a mix of terror, confusion and agony.

I pull on the chains that hold me until my wrists can take no more. I must get out of here!

The unmistakable sound of snapping bone can now be heard coming from above, and the chaos grows louder.

The scattering men on the deck disturb the shadows down here below, sending the muted light into a wild frenzy.

Soon, the screaming, shouting, and beating above reaches fever-pitch.

Then, there is silence.

Rigmor and his men remain in their positions, all three in mortified tableau.

Moments pass, and it seems as though that whatever was responsible for what happened upstairs has departed.

Carefully, Rigmor and his men make their way back toward me. They creep over low, their footfalls on the cedar floorboards sounding like explosions in the quiet.

They reach me, squatting with their swords out all around me, and wait.

Many tenses seconds go by.

Then, it comes.

With a deafening crack, the metal grating in the roof gives way, and a figure descends through the opening.

Rigmor and the men retreat slightly as the figure comes, their bodies visibly shaking as the cloaked figure advances.

The blonde who calls himself Ganos is the first to attack. The figure pays him no mind until he makes contact, at which point the man is flung at the side of the ship like he were a child's doll.

The other soldier goes then and meets the same fate, his mangled body sliding limply down the wall opposite.

The figure stops before Rigmor, who wastes no time lunging at it with his sword.

The Nord's weapon appears to strike true, but is stymied at the last moment by some invisible force.

Rigmor loses his grip on the sword, and it drops out of his reach to the ground.

The Nord then faces the thing which just annihilation his entire crew, its features invisible under its heavy, black cloak. He raises his dukes, ready to take it head-on.

But then, something strange happens.

He drops his hands.

Instead of giving this thing a fight, he just stands there, unmoving, without making a sound.

The figure waits only a moment before making its attack, and I watch in horror as Rigmor Wry-Mouth is swiftly torn to pieces.

The Nord's remains hit the floor almost simultaneously, and his head rolls to a stop before me.

Taking my eyes from the gruesome spectacle, I turn my attention back to the figure.

To my horror, it advances toward me.

An icy feeling crawls up the surface of my skin as it does.

Every part of my being wants to cry out in terror, but I cannot produce a sound.

Thoughts of my life well in my mind — images of friends I will leave behind, and places I will now never explore — and I know from that that this is the end.

Even with a sword and freedom from my bindings, I would still not be able to stop the creature that moves toward me. I am done.

The dark figure stops before me, its cloak shining with blood.

Shivering violently, I raise my eyes to the dark void where its eyes should be.

I have seen this figure before, I now realise — it as the same as the one I saw in Suran. The same as the one standing over Adraria Vandacia as she slept.

I know what is to come.

The figure leans down over me, and I close my eyes, waiting for the end.

Bracing myself for the onslaught, I hear a sharp, metallic sound come from both sides.

I open my eyes to witness my shackles fall to the ground.

The figure backs away, then, and stands before me, making not a single sound.

Terror still grips my throat; I could not speak even if I wished.

Just when I believe I may finally be able to produce sound, the trapdoor opens behind the figure, and the soft light streams in.

The figures turns to the sound, just in time to see a pair of golden boots come down the ladder.

Rather than attack, though, the figure makes another move I did not expect. It jumps off of the floor and soars back out through the hole it made in the ceiling, leaving me to whomever it is that wants to kill me next.

Now, however, I am not so defenceless.

Not sparing a thought for the incredible events of the moments before, I rush to pick up Rigmor's sword.

Barely able to hold it steady, I raise it before me, and brush from my face a matted clump of wet hair.

The new entrant turns around, holding up a weapon of his own.

When the man sees me, however, he lowers it to the ground.

"Ithaca?" the man whispers.

"It's about fucking time you showed up!" I say gleefully, running to the figure and throwing a pair of grateful arms around him. "Thank you," I breathe.

"Don't thank me," Sellus Gravius says, his worried expression just visible in the twilight. "What the hell was that thing, Caecilia?"

I pull away. "You mean that had nothing to do with you?"

The man shakes his head.

I turn back toward the hole in the ceiling which once held the thick, metal grate.

"What do you think it was?" Sellus asks.

"What do you think?" I say.


	14. Chapter 14

"Ow!" I wince at the sharp pain on the side of my face and pull away.

"Sorry," Ellory breathes, continuing to dab a healing balm of her own creation onto my bloodied jaw. She shakes her head, and, as she does, I can still see the quiet fury in her eyes. The woman was none too pleased when she found out that Sellus allowed me to go see Rigmor Wry-Mouth alone. Even though it has been an hour since she returned from Balmora and found out what had transpired, her anger is still there, as strong as ever, albeit not as viciously expressed.

"It's okay," I say, and the healing balm does its work, the pain beginning to fade.

On the stern of our new ship, Ellory and I stand, keeping watch over the seas around and behind us. The sky has cleared since we departed the shores of Hla Oad, and the same strong winds responsible for that now carries us swiftly back down the coast, toward Seyda Neen. Sellus stands at the bow of the ship, maintaining a similar watch over the water there, as well over the reluctant captain of the ship. Strangely, whatever it was that decimated the former crew of this ship decided to leave Rigmor's pilot alive, but no-one else.

Ellory observes my sudden interest for the unwilling seaman steering our vessel, watching the gears turn behind my eyes. "Any theories yet as to why he was the only one left alive?"

"One does not need to theorise," I respond.

"What makes you say that?"

The pain in my jaw flares again, and a moan escapes my lips. Ellory ceases her application of the balm for a while, allowing me to recover. Then, ever so gently, she resumes her care.

"He wants us to come to him, Ellory," I say, studying the surface of the inky blue ocean before me. "He wants us to deliver ourselves — all three of us — right to his doorstep."

The woman's expression remains stony, not betraying a hint of the fear I would imagine she carries inside. She puts the swab aside onto a nearby table and takes up position beside me, leaning on her hands into the rail. "How do you know that?"

"Contrary to Sellus' insistence to the contrary, that thing was definitely trying to save me," I say. "It didn't unshackle me to kill me execution-style. It wanted to set me free."

The woman nods. "I do agree. But why did this person — creature — whatever it is — why did it not just take us from our beds? Why go to all of this trouble to lure us to his ship?"

I do not answer her immediately. My attention is instead captured by a ship on the horizon. The Inner Sea sees plenty of traffic at night, especially in this area, adding even more difficulty to the already challenging task of spotting our enemy's ship.

Lifting one of the telescopes we found in Rigmor's quarters to my eye, the ship is revealed. Its lighted sails are my first clue — it is unlikely that this guy would be broadcasting his position by keeping his upper deck lights on. The size and design of the vehicle is the second. This is most certainly an Imperial patrol ship, not our guy.

I lower the telescope in disappointment, and, in the rippling water below us, my reflection catches my eye. Next to that reflection is a set of four, large tubes protruding from the hull of our vessel. Rigmor's ship, I've come to realise, is not just a cargo carrier, it is a battleship, with the armaments and dexterity to take-on even the most fearsome of the Legion's warships. There is absolutely no need for a slaver to carry such weaponry. Its presence makes me think more and more that the Nord's death was a victory on its own.

I turn back to Ellory and resume the conversation. "The effects of magic-induced paralysis are only temporary. If this guy were to attempt to kidnap us from our beds, it would mean having to paralyse us and carry our bodies all the way from Seyda Neen back to his ship. This would be all while avoiding detection and within the few minutes before his spell wears off. It would be too risky."

"That plan worked on Socucius Ergalla," she interjects.

"Yes, but Socucius Ergalla isn't a highly-trained soldier."

She casts her glance downward, watching several Dreugh that are following us underneath the surface of the water. "Do you think that's why he wants you?" she asks. "Because you are a powerful warrior?"

"Both Sellus and I for that reason, yes."

"So your theory is that he only wants you guys, then? He doesn't want me at all?"

"Aww," I say, wrapping my arm around her and speaking down to her. "Are you feeling left out?"

She shoves me away and smiles. "No. If anything, I am relieved."

Another ship catches my eye as I glass the open waters in front of us with the scope. This one is a Nordic longboat heading toward the mainland. Again, not our guy.

"There's a reason this guy wanted Solea Nuccusius," I continue. "From what little I was able to glean from my studies yesterday, the blood of some mortals is, to vampires, more desirable than others. The blood from a victim possessing incredible strength, for example, is highly sought after by these creatures because it satiates their appetites longer and confers the victim's strength upon them."

"That explains why this guy wants you and Sellus," the woman says, holding the rail to steady herself against the motion created by a particularly strong current. "But what about someone like Socucius?"

"Well, we don't know for a fact that Socucius was kidnapped in order to be fed upon," I say. "It is likely that the guy saw that he wasn't going to be able to remain undetected long with all of the soldiers on patrol in Seyda Neen last night, and just decided to grab a victim and extract the required parts from the body in the comfort of his own ship."

A shudder passes through the woman beside me, one not created by the icy breeze.

"And vampires in Morrowind do not feed for strength alone," I go on. "By feeding on a victim who is incredibly gifted with magic, for example, a vampire can boost their own magical abilities."

"Are you serious?" Ellory says, her eyes wide.

"That's what the book said," I answer, catching in my sights a lightning strike from a thunderhead in the distance. "Socucius is an incredibly intelligent man. If this vampire were looking for more raw brainpower, Socucius Ergalla wouldn't be a bad place to start."

Another shudder runs through her, and she lifts her dark eyes to mine. The moons, the stars, the land and the ocean reflect in those eyes, as if she owned or had some dominion over all of them. "Be careful, Ithaca." she says quietly. "If this is a trap like you say, you should proceed with extreme caution."

The corner of my mouth twists into a lop-sided smile. "As opposed to just dashing in there recklessly and hoping for the best?"

"Shut-up." She leans in close to me, lifting my arm up over her shoulders. "I worry about you," the woman says softly, "and then you treat me like this."

"I treat you wonderfully," I say, sweeping her hair from her face and placing it behind her ears.

The woman sighs again, not in frustration this time, but content. "What do think this guy wants, Ithaca?" she wonders aloud. "Why the organs? Why is it that he is doing what he does?"

Before I can answer, Sellus walks by, presumably to spend a few minutes of his watch on the stern of the ship. His approach is heralded by the thunderous departure of a large seabird that had hitherto been sitting on the starboard railing. Sellus smiles at us as he passes, amused at our cosy position in each other's arms. "Try to look at least somewhat professional," he says.

Ellory's head jerks upward at his words. So violent is the movement that, for a moment, I believe that I may have to restrain her from a starting a fight. Her eyes trail Sellus as he walks by, with such hatred in her expression that it almost scares me.

"You are too hard on Sellus," I say, patting her and easing her back to me. "He did eventually come to save me."

"After placing your life into mortal danger," she retorts, venom thick in her voice. "Why is he even here? Why is he so invested in you? In all of this?"

"He is getting paid," I say, a little confused by her questions. "Why are you here?" I ask.

She looks up to me and raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You have no vested interest here," I tell her. "Your business in Balmora has concluded. Why are you still here?"

I watch the hurt appear on her face. "If you would prefer I had not returned, I..."

"As if I would have preferred that," I cut-in. "I just don't understand why you would be so willing to return, given everything that is happening right now. Surely you must know that, by coming along with us on this mission, you have placed yourself into horrible danger."

If anything, her hurt expression deepens. "You really have no idea why I would come back?" A particularly strong gust of wind rushes through her hair.

My eyes shy away, and I give my answer slowly, carefully. "I would like to think I do."

Her wounded expression fades. "Of course you do, you fool. You know exactly why I'm here. Do not pretend otherwise."

Her hand finds its way into mine, and we stand there for a time just watching the grey mountains of Foyada Mamaea give way to the dull yellows of the Bitter Coast. As we do, a question lingers on my tongue that I am unsure if I should express. Eventually, my curiosity wins out.

"When are you returning to Dagon Fel?" I ask her, and I feel her body stiffen in my arms.

She pulls away from me and looks into my eyes. "I will be returning to home soon," she admits.

I nod, thoroughly dejected, and look out toward the lights of Seyda Neen only now becoming visible in the distance. "If everything goes well here tonight, perhaps I will go with you."

I expect that the woman's body will relax but it does not.

She looks at me then, her eyes serious, and her face impassive. "You would not like the life I could offer you, Ithaca Caecilia."

Just as I am able to probe for an explanation, an announcement comes from the ship's starboard side.

"Enemy spotted!" Sellus yells.

Taking one last look at the woman beside me, I rush to the man's side.

Just as he had said, on the horizon, I see our quarry.

The unmistakable outline of our enemy's ship lies dead ahead.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry about the delay (again) in getting this chapter out. I ended up writing it twice because my first attempt didn't really have any movement or atmosphere to it. I think this one is pretty good, though, and I'm glad that I decided to take another crack at it.

I'm off to Queensland for a week tomorrow. As such, there'll be a week-long break before the next chapter is out. Do not fret, however, for our adventures will resume as soon as I return :-D


	15. Chapter 15

I hold my sword to the man's neck. "Follow that ship."

Rigmor's pilot — a young, terrified looking man who does not at all fit the stereotypical picture of a ship's captain — sizes me up behind the tip of the blade. Deciding whether or not I am a greater threat than the vampire on the now moving ship out there.

He levels his eyes to mine. "Akatosh himself could not make me chase after that vampire. There is nothing in this world that could make me put this ship on course toward that thing out there."

I watch the distant ship's slow drift east as it heads back out toward Azura's Coast and Tel Branora. We are wasting valuable time.

Sellus decides to take the good-guy approach. "See reason, Andres," he says. "Lives are on the line here. We will protect you from harm; you have our word."

My eyes roll. As if appealing to the morals of the captain of a slave ship is going to get us anywhere.

"Oh, well, since you asked me nicely!" the man exclaims sarcastically. "I'll happily commit suicide for someone with manners."

My entire body tenses at this bastard's outburst, and I begin to shake with an anger I've never felt before. I am not going to this little pipsqueak stand in the way of myself and victory. As such, I lower my sword, and drive it swiftly across the man's thigh.

Howling in pain, the guy drops and examines his wound in disbelief, as if I could not have possibly brought about its presence. The wound is shallow, but more than deep enough to make my point.

I stare down upon the man, moonlight reflecting off the blood on the tip of my sword. "Get this ship moving, Andres. Or I'll do the same to your neck."

Men in the captain's situation can respond to a situation like this in two ways: compliance or hysteria. Unfortunately, the man chooses the latter.

Andres backs up against the wheel of the ship, sending it even further off course than it is already. Then, he begins screaming, covering his eyes and uttering desperate pleas for me to go away.

"The sails are set, Ithaca," Sellus says over the man's grovelling, "it is just a matter of steering now. We do not need him anymore."

I glance sidelong at Sellus, the ship now moving in a tight, furious circle as the wheel spins further and further out of control. "And who's going to handle the wheel while we're dealing with this guy?" I shout. "Who's going to watch this bastard while we're off fighting gods knows what on that ship out there?"

"We'll commandeer the enemy vessel," Sellus responds, all three of us now holding anything we can to stay upright atop the turning ship. "We'll use it to get away."

"And if we need to retreat?" I bite back, and rotate to face the woman beside me. "Ellory, what do you th..."

The captain's screaming stops. The sudden absence of sound draws our attention better than an explosion.

I look down at the man on the ground before me. His eyes have misted over, and his panicked expression has been replaced with one of calm.

"What the…?

"My apologies, Miss Caecilia," the man says serenely, standing and tipping his head toward me. "I must have lost my head there for a moment."

The man's vacant stare does not meet any of our's as he turns back toward the wheel and rights the ship. In a few moments, we are, again, well on our way.

I exchange worried glances with Sellus and Ellory at my sides.

"Steady on course," the man announces, and we are away.

The three of us move away from the bow and huddle to speak privately.

"He's being thralled," I say, recalling the information about vampiric mind-control abilities from my reading yesterday. "And that's incredibly bad news for us."

"Your reasoning?" Sellus asks. "We're back on course. How is that bad news?"

"It's bad because the power to thrall isn't within the abilities of just a regular vampire, Sellus. We're not dealing with just an ordinary vampire here. We're dealing with a vampire ancient."

Sellus pulls away, the fear evident on his face. He dwells upon the revelation for a moment, then swallows that fear down. "Our mission is still the same."

"I know."

We turn back to the ship in the distance. The thunderhead I saw earlier is closer now — I'm not sure if that is due to our movement or its. Regardless, the dense cloud fills the southern sky, and the lightning flashing inside it makes our approaching quarry appear even more ominous than before.

In terms of speed, the enemy's ship is no match for our's; the wind carries us toward our mark with all the haste I could have hoped for and more.

Within an hour's travel, details about the target vessel begin to emerge. It is, without doubt, the same ship that we passed on our way out across the bay last night. Clearly of Dunmeri origin, it matches the design of this ship down to the last detail. Aside from being much smaller and lacking the advanced weaponry of our ship, one would be hard-pressed to tell them apart.

We are close enough now to get a decent look at the upper deck. On the bow of the dark ship, a lone figure mans the wheel. The figure stands still, seemingly unconcerned by our swift approach. If I were him, piloting a small vessel such as that while another, larger, heavily armed ship approaches, I'd be a bit worried.

Then, I see why he lacks the appropriate amount of fear.

He has defences of his own.

The first fireball misses the captain by inches, and Sellus dodges several more flaming globes.

All of us — barring the hypnotised captain — move behind cover. From my position behind the mast, I watch the smaller ship come alongside our's, feeling the ship slowing to match the other's speed.

The same cloaked figure that has haunted me this whole time is right there on the deck. The guy raises a pair of gloved hands in the air and sends several more fireballs in this direction.

This time, however, he does not aim for Sellus, Ellory, or I. He aims for the ship itself.

The wooden hull of the superstructure behind us bursts into flames, the resulting spot-fires quickly beginning to spread.

As if that wasn't bad enough, to my dismay, an even bigger problem then presents itself to us.

A succession of fireballs strikes the sail, and the entire curtain bursts into flames.

Fuck. We should have thought of this one.

Under the harsh, flickering light emanating from the ablaze sails, Ellory sends shock spells toward our attacker. None strike true, but they do manage to drive the guy back into cover. From that position, he sends more fireballs our way. These ones, however, are not being directed toward the bulwark as I had expected. Instead, they are being sent toward the rigging holding up the sails. The guy is trying to topple the flaming sails down upon us!

The heat from the flames above is almost intolerable, and I'm not sure how long it will take before the hull succumbs and catches fire as well.

Looking over to Ellory's position near the superstructure, I notice that the spot-fires from earlier have become fully fledged blazes. This ship is not going to last long.

Making my way underneath the flames, I head toward Andres. I pass Sellus on the way, dodging the arrows the mercenary is sending toward our attacker to add to Ellory's own assault.

"This ship is done," he yells over the chaos. "We need to get over to that other ship!"

"I know!" I shout in reply, and continue toward Andres.

Through the flames above, I can see that the thunderhead that has been threatening to return all evening is now directly over us. Rain now spits from the skies, and brilliant flashes of white light my way.

Andres has that same glassy expression on his face when I reach him.

"Take us in toward that ship!" I order. "As close as you can without crashing."

"As you wish," he says, and the ship begins to turn.

Rain now begins to fall in earnest, and drops of water coalesce on the ends of my hair.

The red flash of a fireball whips past my face. Turning, I see Andres drop to the ground.

Cursing the gods, I kick the man's lifeless body out of the way and take the controls. I duck low as I do, hoping to avoid further assaults.

Keeping the ship on the course that the deceased captain had set, I direct us toward the other.

Glancing up at the flaming sails, now an incredible wall of fire in the sky, I mentally urge the ship to hurry. Soon, this ship will be little other than a travelling fireball.

The enemy ship comes closer as the side of our ship nears. Soon, we are sailing alongside each other, perfectly parallel.

From what I can see, it's going to be quite a jump, but I believe we can make it.

Sellus is first one to go, and I watch him get a running start and leap over onto the other ship. He ducks in behind the enemy vessel's capstan, bow in hand.

While Sellus provides cover-fire, Ellory completes a similar motion, effortlessly gliding through the air and onto the other deck. She also takes up position behind the large device and beside Sellus.

Holding the steering in position, I consider the effects of letting go. The ship could stay on course, or it could veer wildly in another direction.

The flaming tip of the mast breaking off and falling onto the deck convinces me to just take the chance and go.

Releasing the wheel from my grasp, I bolt toward the port side of the ship. There, I push off and launch toward the enemy vessel.

I roll into the fall, and then dart over the deck and toward the enemy ship's mast.

There, I see Rigmor's ship break away, wandering off aimlessly as a brilliant orange fireball in the night.

I survey my new surroundings just in time to see the trapdoor on the far side of the vessel drop.

Rising from my crouched position, I take a few cautious steps out from behind the mast to join Sellus and Ellory.

Rounding the capstan, I see Ellory crouched next to Sellus, keeping watch from behind the large instrument.

When she sees me, she rises to my level.

"What happened?" I ask, passing her and kneeling beside Sellus. The back of his balding head is bruised horribly, likely as a result of the tumble he took coming over here. He seemed fine when I saw him just a moment ago, though...

"Ithaca," the woman standing above me says, placing her palm on the side of my face and gently coaxing me upward.

I look at her expectantly when she does, before noticing the grave look in her eyes. Instantly, I know something is wrong.

Then, the woman does something I didn't expect.

She brings her lips to mine.

Bathed in the orange light from the burning ship now a ways away, her lips exult mine.

Moments pass, and she pulls away.

"I'm sorry, Ithaca," Ellory continues, her dark, crystal eyes flicking between each of mine.

My brow furrows in confusion at the woman's strange words. "For what?"

She smiles, ever so briefly, then her face falls again. "For this."

The alien scream I heard back at Rigmor's ship issues from the woman's mouth, and her eyes light up with an intense amber glow. A sharp, excruciating pain explodes in my chin before the world goes a deep, dark shade of black.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, I wrote on my holiday. Well, I just finished it the day before I left and only edited it today. Either way, I have committed a grievous crime, and I will endeavour to keep myself from the keyboard for the rest of my trip. See you in a week! :-D


	16. Chapter 16

_A sumptuous banquet is spread out before me._

 _Taking a seat at the grand, opulent table, I feast on a particularly choice cut of roasted meat. It's aroma alone is enough to make my mouth water._

 _Around me, many other people dine._

 _Waiters bustle around taking orders._

 _Men laugh._

 _Women whisper._

 _And yet, somehow, I feel as though I am alone._

 _As I cut into the last portion of my meal, I see the larvae squirming inside._

 _Recoiling from the disgusting sight, I cover my mouth, but it is no use._

 _I heave._

 _It is only then that I see the blood._

 _And it is only then that I see the larvae._

 _As they all begin to eat their way out of my stomach._

My eyes snap open.

Raindrops pour in.

Beneath me, the world shifts, rising and falling to a rhythm unknown.

It takes me a moment to get my bearings, my attention taken up by my efforts to evacuate the nightmare I just had from my mind.

Soon, the memory of it fades, but the relief that my success brings does not last long.

I am lying on the wooden bottom of a small raft, likely the tender from a much larger vessel. Beneath that wooden bottom is a dark, choppy ocean, its surface irritated by the rain and strong gusts of wind.

Clinging to the side of the raft for stability amidst the swell, I lift myself up and take stock of my situation.

Visibility is pretty much nil in any direction. Through the downpour, no land or landmarks can be seen. Worse still, I am alone.

The sea around me is angry and menacing, pushing me up and down and teasing me with threats of overturning my vessel. Those threats are in no way empty: this craft was most certainly not made for such conditions.

I have no idea how long I was out, nor any idea of my current position. One thing I am certain of, however, is how I got here.

Ellory.

Ellory, the enchanting little alchemist from Dagon Fel who I was beginning to care about more than I would like to admit.

Ellory, the vampire ancient who has been manipulating me this whole time to lead her to our mutual quarry, and whose fist is responsible for the taste of blood in my mouth.

She must have put me on this thing and cast me adrift. Sellus couldn't have done it, and I seriously doubt that the guy who we were chasing did it. That leaves just her.

But why? Why did she put me on this thing rather than simply kill me outright?

A torrent of questions rush through my mind, as well as theories to go along with them. One question, however, stands firm amidst the chaos:

Why did she kiss me?

The question puzzles me, intrigues me, but, most importantly, it angers me. I was betrayed. I placed my trust in this woman; I allowed her to share my bed. In return, I was used, violated, and abandoned.

The fury rising in my chest drives me to action, and I will it to overtake my sadness. I want that bitch found, I decide, and I'm not going to just sit here and allow her to get away.

Looking around the vessel, I search for anything that could be of use. To my surprise, I actually manage to find something. It is a flare gun and three cartridges. Like myself, this stuff didn't get in here by accident. Ship tenders are not customarily stored stocked with supplies; Ellory must have put this in here for me to use. It was not her intention to leave me to die out here.

Pushing the conflicting feelings that this new development conjures aside, I pull the items out of the worrying inch of water that has collected in the bottom of the raft.

Lifting the latch on the side, I open the device, and insert a cartridge.

Extending my arm into the air, I then pull the trigger.

An incredibly bright red point of light trails through the rain and into the air. It stays up there for a few moments, then falls back down, consumed by the ocean.

I arm the gun with another cartridge, and consider shooting another. I decide to wait, however, opting instead to space out my shots and give myself the best chance of being spotted.

I know that there is at least one Imperial patrol vessel out on the water this evening. My gut tells me that not much time has passed since we boarded the enemy ship, a theory slightly evidenced by the fact that it is not yet morning. As such, I'm hoping that it is still somewhere close by.

A flash of lighting illuminates my surroundings momentarily, allowing me to see further out. The sea is clear and unblemished, free of any other features or vessels. There is truly nobody else out here. Wherever Sellus is, I hope he is okay.

The wind has increased in strength in the minutes that I have been awake, lashing my face with soaking wet hair. The waves beneath me are even more vicious than before, forcing me to grip the sides of the boat with a pair of frigid, nervous hands.

In this position, I wait. It is something I will continue to do for ten minutes, at which point I'll fire off another flare.

Anxiously, I scan the area around me, hoping for the warm glow of a searchlight to grace my sight. Minutes pass, and I see nothing.

Why did Ellory want me to help her find this guy? I wonder, deliberately keeping my teeth from clenching at the thought. What is her investment in all of this?

I shake my head. I thought she was just being generous, listening to all of my conundrums, giving me a platform to work through my thoughts. In reality, she was just using me to gather information.

As the boat continues to rock in the chaos, I replay my time with Ellory over and over, recalling things that I now realise were clues to her true form. The fact that I've never seen her eat. Never seen her out after dark. Never seen her stick around in the morning. The fact that she was somehow able to hear the footsteps of a man skulking around in a building over half a mile away. And this 'family meeting' of her's — I wonder what that was all about? I shudder to think of it now.

Still, there was something there, I think, holding on for dear life as a particular large, grey wave tips the raft backward. Something that makes me think that not everything about her was a lie, an act.

Ellory could have easily thralled me to get the information she required, just like she — I now realise — thralled Andres on the boat to convince him to drive us closer. I know she was capable of influencing me — I suspect that it wasn't Telvanni Bug Musk that coaxed me into her bed that first night. But she didn't. Why? I wonder. Was it all just a game to her? Or was it something else?

The sight of two human-like eyes hovering just under the surface of the water momentarily distracts me from my thoughts. A Dreugh observes me with curiosity from below, oblivious there to the turmoil on the ocean's surface above.

My thoughts then take over once again, this time bringing my attention to something so harrowing that it almost makes me want to throw-up.

Sarys.

The massacre in Sarys Ancestral Tomb! The murder of Solea Nuccusius at Fort Moonmoth! By the Divines! Could it have been her?

A sharp, sudden movement of the boat derails my train of thought. This wasn't like the movement of the waves — it was almost like the raft hit something.

Then, I see it: one of the Dreugh's arms rising out of the water and reaching into the boat.

I scurry to the back of the vessel, and instantly become aware of my lack of a weapon.

I don't know much about these Dreughs — the half-men half-octopus creatures that inhabit the waters around Vvardenfell — but I do know one thing:

They _hate_ humans.

Several other arms whip out of the water from underneath the boat. Slowly, they begin to close around it. This thing is trying to pull me under!

Throwing a heavy boot toward one of the leathery tentacles, I send a few blows into it, hoping to crush it into the floor.

The tentacle withdraws.

As I am about to move to the next, however, I feel another of the heavy appendages hit my shoulder. From there, it slithers around my neck!

I swat the creature away as best I can, but it is useless. Soon, the monster has me by the throat!

Kicking at the remaining tentacles, silent screams issue from my lungs.

Desperately attempting to pull the tentacle away, I realise that fighting this thing unassisted is futile. As such, I decide to pursue my only option.

I drop to the ground, continuing to reef at the creature's chokehold on me.

Feeling around the base of the boat, I find it:

The flare gun.

Placing the weapon directly against the appendage which constricts me, I press the trigger.

A muffled red light flashes over the boat and the monster which is now almost entirely wrapped around it.

An immense convulsion travels through the creature's body in response to the damage, but its tentacle remains firmly in place.

I wince at what I am about to do, for it renders my chances of rescue from these waters significantly reduced. However, I can see no other choice.

Pressing the barrel of the device against the appendage once again, I inject another searing round into its body. It exits the creature out of its other side, leaving an enormous, flaming hole in its wake. It travels out over the surface of the ocean and dies shortly thereafter.

A howl issues from below the boat, and the monster's grip on my neck releases!

The rest of the terrible limbs gradually fall away, and I watch the wounded, squid-like form swim awkwardly away.

Lying chest-down in the pool of water at the bottom of the boat, I gasp air into my system. My neck aches from the constriction; one more minute and I would have definitely succumbed to its attack.

With great effort, I flip myself over and grip the sides of the raft. Now, the storm is in full-force above me, lightning and thunder all crashing down around me as one. Between the Dreughs (of which there are undoubtedly more), the treacherous seas, and the fact that this boat is swiftly taking-on water, I don't know how much longer I can last out here.

Lying on the floor as the boat is flung into the air and dropped back to the water with an alarming thud, I begin to mutter prayers to Akatosh, Arkay, and pretty much any other deity whose name I can remember. I've never been particularly religious. I am now.

There is nowhere to go, and there is nothing to do, but wait.

I do so for what seems like an eternity.

Then, I see a light.

* * *

 **A/N:** And we're back! Sorry this one took so long; took me a bit of time to get back into the swing of writing. Hopefully there'll be no more interruptions as we near the end of our journey. Until tomorrow :-D


	17. Chapter 17

"Thank you," I say to the young, Imperial cabin boy before me. He deposits my armour on the seat to my right, its golden surface now shiny enough to produce a perfect reflection of the lightning coming down from above.

The cabin boy bows and moves away into the crowd of people aboard the _Aurelia_ , eventually fading into obscurity amongst its crew. All work hard to propel the ship forward toward our prey. At least, that is the hope.

Since Captain Galatas and his men rescued me after sighting of Rigmor's burning ship and the flares, we've been scouring the southern coast of Morrowind hoping to locate the enemy vessel. Two enormous searchlights cut through the rain and fog, affording us a decent view of the shore and the waters around us.

I feel the ship twisting and turning as I sit underneath the shelter on the port-side of the ship. Hugging the coast so closely is especially dangerous in these waters, thanks to the many menhirs which peek out just above the water. This is especially true in these conditions and at this time of night. I watch one of those pillars of stone pass by in the water beside the ship. Hitting one of those going this speed would be a disaster, but pulling out to a safe distance would destroy our ability to see the shore. The helmsman, however, seems to be doing okay.

The incredible (and undoubtedly magical) beams of light emanating from the sides of the ship illuminate the many islands of Azura's coast, as well as the beaches behind them. A ship could be hiding anywhere out there, and I remain vigilant even with the three lookouts already keeping watch on this side of the vessel.

"How are you doing, Errant Caecilia?" Captain Galatas appears at my side. His words are curt and monotone.

"Tired," I respond, and it's not a lie. I feel like I haven't slept for days, something which might be attributable to the fact that I actually haven't slept for days.

The aged man nods and takes a spot on the seat next to me, scratching his beard with a set of gnarly fingers. "I can imagine you are." He crosses his legs and sits back. "We've sent word to the other patrol ships on watch tonight in the Inner Sea. With some convincing, the captain of the _Miromere_ has pledged to look for Sellus Gravius until their shift ends late tomorrow morning."

I exhale a sigh of relief. "That is good to hear."

The captain regards me with a wary gaze and sits as far from me as away as he can, like I am carrying something infectious. A few moments of silence go by like this, with him keeping his distance and acting as though he has something he can't bring himself to say. The guy has been giving me looks like this ever since the initial chaos died down following my arrival on board. As odd as it seems, I'm very familiar with this by now. Most high-ranking officers in the Legion respond to me in this way, and have for quite some time. They look at me with an undercurrent of what is at best amusement and at worst contempt. Captain Galatus definitely falls into the latter category, and the blatancy of it makes me want to punch the guy in the face. The blind acceptance of the rumours that I slept my way to my rank is not something to which I take too kindly. Still, this guy has loaned me his ship, and I should attempt to show the requisite appreciation. I let it pass.

"What is our current position?" I ask.

"Ten minutes out of Tel Branora," the Captain responds, pointing east. "It'll be 2am by the time we get there."

By the Nine, no wonder I'm tired.

"The _Miromere_ is coming down from the Gnaar Mok area," Galatus continues. "They've also promised to keep a watch for any unusual ships out in that area on their way. If your target has decided to head in the other direction, they will not escape."

Nodding, I continue to observe the coast with a focused pair of eyes. Still, there is nothing to be seen.

"Do not worry," Galatas goes on. "Unless the woman of which you spoke has scuttled her ship, we will find it."

The knot in my stomach tightens at the mention of Ellory. I wish it wouldn't do that. I am not able to identify precisely what the knot is, but I believe it to be a mix of fear, hurt, and betrayal. To my surprise, the fear is the strongest of those three feelings — the prospect of facing-off against a vampire ancient at some point is not sitting particularly well with me. Even with a heavily-armed strike-force such as the one that Captain Galatas has promised, I'm not entirely sure that we'd even stand a chance. Still, assuming that we can catch up to the ship, the job will have to be done.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the man next to me shaking his head. A smile paints his face as he does, and the smugness of it makes my desire to do him bodily harm increase.

Unable to take the tension any longer, I snap. "What?"

The man takes a moment to answer. "Why Sellus Gravius?" he asks. "If you were in a pinch for more resources, why, of all people, would you go to him?"

"Because unlike the Legion," I spit back, "Sellus Gravius was actually willing to provide them."

His smile grows, and he shakes his head once again. "Silly, silly girl," he says. "Varus Vantinius..."

"Wouldn't know an Orc from a vase," I say, knowing full-well that the remark will one day come back to haunt me. "And if you refer to me in such a way again, Captain Galatas, I assure you that you will see just how much of a mere 'silly girl' I am not."

The man's smile fades slightly, but, to his credit, he manages to keep his cool. "A group of citizens from Seyda Neen arrived in Ebonheart yesterday morning," the man tells me. "Varus Vantinius was none too happy to hear that you have been consorting with the former commander of the Seyda Neen garrison."

More knots tighten under my abs, joining the one already there.

"He was particularly unimpressed with your decision to hire someone who he himself decided to dismiss from the Legion," the man continues, "and with Legion money."

I stand and begin to clip my armour over my fresh set of blacks. "If Vantinius has a problem with how I've decided to administer my duties recently, then I will be more than happy to discuss it with him. Until then, I've got work to do."

Fastening the final piece of my armour to my person, I stride away.

Through the rain and the crew, I walk. This ship is massive, far greater in size than Rigmor's comparatively tiny craft. There are at least fifty men on board, perhaps more. It is a newer model ship; I believe the design is just five years old. As such, it offers as much as speed and durability as one could ask of a warship. I'm hoping that these two qualities will allow us to catch Ellory and her disquieting company.

I approach Korsta Long-Tooth and Neldram Andalia. The female Nord and male Dunmer are in charge of the party that will accompany me onto the enemy ship. These soldiers are not officers and seem to be free of cynicism and snap-judgements. As such, I've taken a liking to the pair.

"Here you are, Ithaca." Korsta, a tall, heavily muscled Nord hands me a sword to replace the one I lost aboard Rigmor's ship. It is a basic broadsword with some rust around the hilt, but it should get the job done.

"Thanks," I say to her, testing the weapon's weight. "What have you got Neldram?"

"Serious concerns about taking-on a vampire ancient," the man replies with a smile on his azure face. "In terms of weapons, though, I've got a few seriously overpowered lightning and fireball spells at my disposal, as well as a heap of scrolls that will allow us to summon Golden Saints and drain the health of our enemies."

"Anything I can use to augment this sword?" I ask, and Korsta gives me a sympathetic look.

The Dunmer hands me a few small vials of a bubbling purple liquid. "Coat your blade in that, and it'll be like you're wielding a Daedric longsword."

"Nice." I address both of them. "Remember, while protecting yourselves is the main priority, our goal is to capture this vampire and her companion alive. Your strikes should be aimed at weakening our enemies — not destroying them."

Neldram begins to say something, but his voice fades to the periphery of my awareness. Something in the distance ahead of the ship catches my attention.

I turn my head toward the other lookouts. The lead lookout on the port side is looking in the same direction as I, but they must have missed it.

Shooshing Neldram, I approach the helm. Looking out over the nose of the ship and the waters which it cuts through, I see it again.

"You!" I call to the spotlight operator on the port side. "Throw a light out there."

The beam whips through the rain, affording me a clear view of what is ahead of us. It is the unmistakable outline of the enemy ship! The vessel is many miles away, but I can see it as clear as the hands on the rail in front of me.

"What is it?" Captain Galatas' voices comes from my side.

I point at the vivid outline in the distance.

He looks out and strains his eyes. "I see nothing."

"Your eyes fail you, old man." Beckoning the lead lookout from starboard to the helm, I instruct him to look in the direction of the enemy's craft.

To my chagrin, however, he shakes his head.

"For the sake of the gods!" I exclaim. "We're on course for it anyway. Wait for it."

Sure enough, after a few minutes, the enemy ship comes into view.

"How on Nirn were you able to see that?" the lookout asks.

I turn to him, annoyed. "How on Nirn couldn't you?"

"Enough," Captain Galatus orders, turning to his pilot. "Extend the sails fully and proceed toward that vessel, top speed."

"Yes, sir," the helmsman replies.

Captain Galatus then turns to me. "Get ready, Knight Errant Caecilia," he says. "In a few minutes, you're going to be taking on one of the most powerful and bloodthirsty creatures to have ever walked on Tamriel. I wouldn't trade places with you for all the drakes in the world."

A smile spread across my face, and I place a hand on the man's shoulder. "Galatas, I have no doubt that that's true."

Turning away from the momentarily subdued captain, I walk back to Korsta and Neldram.

There, we wait for the cold, night winds to deliver us to our unholy quarry.


	18. Chapter 18

"By the order of the Imperial Navy, I will ask you again, please fold your sails, stop your ship, and submit for inspection." Captain Galatas' demands are transmitted down to the enemy ship, now just half a click away, via megaphone.

To no-one's surprise, the ship exhibits no change in speed or heading. I know that hailing the ship before a forcible boarding is procedure, but, based on everything we know, I don't see the point. I still cling to the vague hope that we may find Socucius Ergalla alive and well; this delay does nothing but waste time that the Tax Agent does not have to spare.

Galatas lowers the megaphone and waits. Finally, he motions for Korsta and Neldram, who gather their team.

"Ithaca," he says to me, his expression businesslike. "You're in charge."

Silently, I nod, and he moves to talk to a crew-member on the starboard side of the boat.

Six men gather before myself, Korsta, and Neldram, all uniformed, armed, and outwardly presenting as fine soldiers. Boarding that ship out there might not be just a quick method of suicide after all.

I watch the _Aurelia_ gain significant ground on the enemy. In under a minute, we are directly behind the ship.

My brow furrows. "How are we going to get to the other vessel?"

Neldram indicates Galatas' direction. "You will see."

Several burly crewman are hauling a large, metal anchor-like object that has three, hooked prongs. That object is fastened to a thick, metal chain and placed into one of the ship's fore cannons. Galatas then gives the helmsman a signal, who, in turn, relays signals to several others.

Thanks to the increased speed the helmsman requested from the crew, soon, the boat almost upon the enemy ship. There is nobody on deck down there and the wheel is unmoving, set on a predetermined course.

Light flares out of the corner of my eye — Galatas has set a match. He holds it while one of his men fills the end of the cannon's chamber with gunpowder. Once the crewman has exhausted his supply, he tosses the empty pouch he was holding into the ocean. Then, Galatas moves the match downward.

When the flame makes contact with the wick, the cannon fires. The pronged object trails through the rain and out toward the enemy vessel. There, it injects itself into the hole of the ship with a great thud.

The captain gives another signal to the helmsman, who, again, relays his command to the sailors behind us.

Ever so slightly, I feel our ship slow.

Then, I am almost knocked off my feet.

The entire wooden structure that is the Aurelia shudders as the two opposing forces of the ships suddenly meet. Holding onto the capstan, I watch as the smaller ship before us catches like a dog on a leash, and is immediately brought to a stop.

Still no sign of how we're going to get down there, though, unless Galatas thinks we're going to perform a tightrope walk down over that chain.

The old man comes over to us. "Neldram, it's all you now." He pats the Dunmer on the back, nods to me, and moves away.

The mage reaches into a bag at his side and begins disseminating small bottles to each of us. I recognise them immediately — these are levitation potions. Clever.

"What are we going to do when we get down there?" Korsta asks in that characteristic, overloud voice of those Nordic in origin.

"We do a sweep of the deck," I answer, wiping the rain from my mouth. "Then, we move into the superstructure, two men at a time. We ready?"

The eight soldiers in my team nod.

"Very well," I say, raising the potion bottle to my lips. "Here we go."

Suddenly, I begin to feel extremely light, and my feet rise from the deck of the ship. It's a heady experience, even under these dire circumstances. There's something about flying that always gives me a rush, something I believe is a reaction to doing something that humans were never, ever meant to do.

My body goes horizontal, and I begin to swim through the air, pushing myself through the downpour. The gap between both ships passes under me, and then the wooden deck of the enemy ship rises up to greet me.

Still hovering in the air, I watch the rest of my team do the same.

The brew Neldram gave us was weak; it does not take long to wear off, and for our feet to become planted solidly on the ground once again.

Silently, I gesture to the team to fan out and do a sweep of the deck. All that we find is dead, wet wood.

I turn my attention to the superstructure, and the ominous little door on its front. We advance toward it, and Korsta joins me by my side. She seems like a capable warrior, and it is for that reason alone that my heart is not exploding in my chest.

With inordinate amounts of trepidation, I wrap my fingers around the metal handle. Turning it, the door swings open.

Swords drawn, we move inside. The superstructure consists of only a single room with a desk and a chair — the Captain's chambers.

Korsta bends down and pulls open the trapdoor in the floor in the centre of the room. A warm, yellow light streams out, but it is in no way inviting.

Gesturing to Neldram and the solider at his side to indicate that he should follow us, Korsta and I prepare to go in.

Peering into the opening, I am able to see that the spacious second deck is divided into sections via the placement of several opaque screens. Because of these screens, only a small fraction of the room is visible to me.

Korsta is first to go down, and I follow close behind.

This section is clear.

Shifting one of the screens to the side, we are granted passage into the largest division of the deck.

A table is the dominant feature of the room, but what is on that table is the thing that grabs our attention.

It is a cloaked figure — the same figure that has been haunting me this whole time!

I come up alongside the figure lying in an inch of blood which has pooled upon the table's uneven surface. The figure — its face still obscured by that black hood — is dead, punctured by the longsword which still juts out of its chest. Damn.

More men come down the ladder, and I give them the command to wait.

With everyone looking on, I begin to unmask the man, woman, or creature that has plagued Seyda Neen all this time. When the monster's face is revealed, all of us gasp and recoil.

All of the elements that one would expect to be on a man's face is there, but that is where the resemblance ends. Mismatching eyeballs sit inside the creature's sunken sockets; its skin is a melange of different types and tones. All of that skin has been haphazardly stitched together to form a whole, and lesions coat its many different surfaces.

It takes all of my will not to drop the hood and back away — the smell alone is enough reason to do so. Forcing myself to remain, however, I continue to peel back the robe, seeking an answer to a question that I am dying to have answered.

Past its neck and collarbones, I pull back the robe, until I find for what I am looking.

Fresh stitching is present directly around the skin covering this guy's heart. I hang my head in sadness. My hope of finding Socucius alive is gone.

"Ithaca," Korsta says. I feel her warm hand on my wrist.

I look to her, and catch sight of the book she is holding in her hands.

"Found this over there," she explains, pointing at a desk underneath the porthole in the far wall.

 _Loredas, 12th day of Heartfire, 3E422_ , I read. _Sample #17 did not take. Will need to procure another._

Diary entries. Lots of them. Arbitrarily, I turn to another page.

 _Tirdas, 15th day of Heartfire, 3E422. The liver I extracted from the subject known as 'Ennah' appears promising. No signs of rejection as yet._

Another page.

 _Fredus, 18th day of Heartfire, 3E422. Transplant #4 was successful._

I skip to the latter portions of the book, hoping to find something a little more relevant. One entry grabs my notice.

 _Middas, 9th day of Frostfall, 3E422. My plans to extract the heart of the subject known as 'Adrara Vandacia' have failed. The Legion forces at Seyda Neen are now on high alert. Their use of Detect Life spells in their efforts to find me have proven a welcome amusement during this dark time. I will make another play for a working specimen soon._

Now we're getting somewhere. I flick over two pages this time, hoping to find another article of interest.

Wow, am I successful.

 _She is here!_ the entry reads. _Volrina Quarra herself is here! I saw her through the porthole of the ship when leaving the bay next to the village. Quarra didn't just send one of her minions as I had expected — she actually came herself! Worse still, somehow she is working with the Imperials! Thank the GODS that I was able to grab a living specimen tonight. I can feel my blood-connection to the clan weakening, but it is still not enough. The transplant schedule will have to be moved up to tomorrow. As much as I am reticent to attempt this incredible task, procrastination is no longer an option. In just a few hours, I will remove Socucius Ergalla's heart and replace my own with his. If Volrina wants her precious ring back, she is going to have to find its new owner the old-fashioned way._

I lower the book and hand it back to Korsta.

Quarra... I've heard that name. It came up quite often during my reading of _Vampires of Vvardenfell_. Quarra is the name of one of Morrowind's three main vampire clans. Volrina Quarra 'herself' the journal entry said... seems to me that Ellory wasn't just some random vampire, she was actually the _leader_ of one of the most ancient and dangerous vampire clans in Vvardenfell!

"What is it?" Neldram asks, taking in the sight of my flushed, pale face.

Shaking the mental fallout of this new revelation away, I answer. "It is nothing. Let us proceed."

The men move further down to the deck. Before I join them, I remove the glove from the right hand of the dead vampire on the table. On its filthy middle finger is a small, clean band of skin, indicating the absence of a ring.

Following the men deeper into the ship, I find all manner of disconcerting equipment. Implements of surgery are everywhere. Scalpels, scissors, retractors, forceps, and clamps are scattered about the floor, many covered with dried blood. Broken jars of rubbing alcohol work to overpower the putrid stench coming from the figure lying on the table back there, and I am thankful for their efforts.

A full set of master's alchemical equipment has been set up on a table in this section, underneath a porthole through which I can spy the lights on the upper deck of the Aurelia.

Moving even further down the length of the deck, I reach the end. The men are gathered here, around yet another trapdoor in the floor. Korsta looks at me expectantly.

I open my mouth to speak, but she silences me with an index finger to the lips. "Listen."

It takes me a few moments, but I hear it. A consistent sound — almost like white noise — hissing from somewhere below.

Gripping the hilt of my sword even harder, I gesture for Neldram to raise the trapdoor.

Inside, it is pitch-black. The mage beside me quickly remedies that situation by casting a Light spell down there.

It is at that moment that all doubt as to the fate of Socucius Ergalla is erased. The man's body floats lifelessly in a pool of rushing water on the floor, a large void where once was the man's heart.

My griefs overcomes me, and it is only when I push it away that the presence of that rushing water finally registers with my attention. Following the stream of that water up the deck of the ship, I see its source.

A hole — large enough to allow a small person to pass through — has been torn into the hull of the ship! Water passes through and over the piles of dead bodies that litter there floor down there. It will not be long before this ship goes under, I realise, but that is not the part of this new development that interests me.

I push past Korsta and bolt back toward the ladder to the superstructure at the other end of the deck.

"Where are you doing, Ithaca?" the Nord calls after me. "Where are you going?"

Passing the corpse of the man who was responsible for everything that has happened in Seyda Neen these last few weeks and reaching the ladder, I answer the woman's question.

"To catch that damned vampire."


	19. Chapter 19

Bolting out of the superstructure, I run to the side of the ship above the hole in its bottom.

Squinting in the darkness, I survey the turbulent sea for any signs of the escaped vampire. Eventually, a dark disturbance on the water's grey surface catches my attention.

Not taking my eyes from the creature, I call to the larger ship above. "Galatas!"

The old captain looks down over the nose of his ship. "Get one of your bowman! Fire on that target!"

Galatas' head disappears, and, a few seconds later, the searchlight reorients to illuminate Ellory's retreating form.

Several white streaks shoot out from atop the _Aurelia_ and toward that illuminated spot. Hopefully, at least one of them will strike true. That might even the playing field.

Holstering my sword, I move back from the railing. Then, I run.

Launching off the railing, I dive into the water.

The waves instantly push me backward, but I power my way through.

Throwing my arms over my shoulders and kicking behind me like mad, I propel myself through the water. I make an attempt to not to think about the fact that, by doing so, I may very well be swimming to my death.

The current throws me back again, allowing the slaughterfish on my tail to gain a bit of ground on me. I press on, ignoring the awful creatures as best I can.

Glancing upward to see if I can spot the shore, I see something even better: the lights of Tel Branora. The island on which the mushroom city resides is small; I might be able to grab some guards there to assist me in taking the creature on.

Several teeth pierce my right calf muscle, and I open my mouth underwater to howl with pain. Salt water rushes in — a vile taste on its own — but there is something else in that water that reaches my palate.

Blood.

Every fibre of my being hopes that it is Ellory's. I seriously doubt that even three or four arrows would be enough to deal her any serious damage, but it might make her a bit more manageable an adversary. My chances of capturing the woman would be very much increased.

I feel the shore before I see it, and a wave pushes me up the sand.

Thrusting myself upward, I search the ground for tracks. I am able to locate them an instant, as well as the thick trail of blood by which they are accompanied. She's heading toward the city.

A fast-paced jog is all I can manage up the hill bordering the Telvanni town. Minutes pass before the giant mushroom tower that is Tel Branora comes into view.

The ground up here is no longer sand, replaced instead by the rocky plains of Azura's coast, I need to rely solely on the blood trail to follow Ellory now. Unfortunately, that trail is being rapidly washed away by the rain. I will need to hurry.

Pushing myself past my limits, I dash toward the town and the group of guards out on the road before it.

The leader of the group — a man ensconced in armour from head to toe — raises his hand before me. "Halt."

To my annoyance, the rest of the guards move to surround me.

"A woman with three arrows lodged in her body and running like she were being chased by Mehrunes Dagon himself just came through here. Do you know anything about that?" He addresses me with an accusatory tone.

"She is a vampire," I pant, "and I am an officer of the Imperial Legion. She is involved in the recent attacks on Tel Branora and Seyda Neen. Help me track her down."

He looks me up and down, likely taking in the sight of my Templar armour. Despite the uniform, he shakes his head. "I will need to see some identific..."

An unholy shriek comes from somewhere not too far away. The strange, disconcerting sound convinces the solider immediately. "Very well," he says. "This way."

I follow him and his men past the town and toward the other side of the island. Sails come into view shortly after the docks.

My heart sinks as I see two, amber pin-pricks of light aboard. Ellory is on that ship! She must have thralled the pilot in an attempt to get away.

Pushing myself even harder, I leave behind the group of slow-moving soldiers and jump down onto the docks. There, I take a run-up, and throw myself toward the vampire's new ship.

My hands make contact with the vessel's railing, and the rest of my body strikes the side.

Groaning from the impact, I gather all my remaining strength and throw myself upward. A second later, and my feet come to rest on the deck of the enemy ship.

Without wasting a moment, the vampire comes.

Drawing my sword, I send the heavy, blunt hilt toward her approaching face.

A scream escapes her lips at the blow, and she stumbles back.

A glance at the arrows lodged deep inside her body explain her current lack of endurance. If she were human, she would have died in the ocean.

Her incandescent eyes fix on me, and the deafening shriek comes again. Rather than continue her attack, however, she sags onto one knee and crumples to the ground. I believe the battle won, but I soon come to realise her collapse does not leave her powerless.

Bolts of lightning issue from her hands, sending me screaming backward. The searing pain continues even after the electric spikes fade away.

Getting up, I keep my distance from her. Those shock blasts of her's can deal much damage, but I know that even the most skilled mage cannot keep that up for long.

I come for the woman again and she sends a few more bolts my way. Now aware of her tactics, I am able to dodge most of her magical attacks and endure the rest.

Her spelling casting abilities are weak — weaker than any I have ever previously absorbed. Either she is not a particularly talented magician, or she is exhausted.

Regardless of the reason, her attacks cease. But, when I begin to approach her, another problem presents itself.

The pilot leaves the helm and draws her sword. With a glassy look in her eyes — most certainly the result of a thralling — she comes.

I do not wish to hurt a civilian, but I have no choice. The woman launches a suicidal attack at my face with her sword. I easily deflect it, and smash the woman over the back of the head. She falls to the ground, unconscious.

Clutching at the arrows buried inside her, Ellory screams once more — a terrible, multilayered vocalisation that makes me want to run back to town as fast as I possibly can.

Something interrupts a second scream: her attention has been caught by something behind me.

Tiling my head to see what what it is, I witness the three soldiers that I left behind on the dock climbing aboard the ship. When they do, they head straight for me, weapons extended.

While this fight will be a three-on-one, the mental influence Ellory exerts over them makes them clumsy and stupid.

Two of the soldiers thrust their swords awkwardly toward my torso. They are easy to swipe away.

Catching the third, I thwart his attempt to lodge his weapon in my kidneys.

The first two — seemingly working in concert — then go for my face. Parrying their strikes, I turn and thrust my sword backward into the leader's guts. He drops to the floor, dead.

Quickly, I parry the two remaining soldiers' subsequent attacks.

I believe that I have the upper-hand, until one of the soldiers manages to kick my legs out from under me as I dovetail out of a spin.

Falling awkwardly to the ground, I watch that soldiers partner raise his sword high into the air. A foolish, foolish mistake.

Throwing my sword out toward him, I run him through.

Drawing back the blood-covered blade, I stand to face the one soldier that remains.

A single parry and thrust is enough to take him down, and he falls limply onto the corpses of his former companions.

I turn to Ellory.

To my horror, however, she is gone.

The orange glow to my left immediately gives up her position. She is standing right next me, close enough to strike. If I make a move on her, I know that I will be dead.

A few seconds go by, but she does not make a move.

Instead, her glowing eyes falter, growing heavier and heavier.

She stumbles backward, and reaches to me for stability. Instinctively, I catch her hand and hold her upright.

Her eyes narrow then, not in anger, but in fear. She looks up at me, her face ragged and eyes sunken.

"Ithaca." Her voice sends a wave of dread through me. It sounds like nothing in this world — like three different voices speaking the same words all at once.

To my dismay, sympathy comes then, and I chastise myself internally for my stupidity.

Keeping the woman — creature? — at a safe distance, I breathe a sigh of relief. She is most certainly done.

"Help me," she says, and then promptly falls to the ground.

* * *

 **A/N:** Tomorrow, I will be writing the most important scene in the entire story. Wish me luck, it's going to be one hell of a job not to screw it up :-D


	20. Chapter 20

_I lay on my back._

 _A feeling of peace ripples out across my body. I am completely at ease._

 _As my vision comes into focus, I notice others standing around me. Their faces stare back, all blushing with excitement. They appear as though they are having fun._

 _A man then leans into my vision. His face is gaunt but friendly. He begins to run strokes through my hair._

 _As he whispers soft words of assurance to me, he moves in closer._

 _Out of the corner of my eye, I notice an odd glint of light._

 _That feeling of calm inside me is then replaced by one of panic, as the scalpel begins to cut through my flesh._

My eyes open.

Initially, I recoil from the sunlight streaming through the window. But, as my eyes begin to adjust to that light beaming in, I focus on it, taking comfort in its presence.

I've had it with these bad dreams.

When I was young, I dreamed all kinds of wonderful things — being in love, travelling over the Sea of Ghosts to Atmora, climbing the Throat of the World to High Hrothgar in Skyrim... now, all I get is this. It's ridiculous.

I can't really blame my brain, though: it isn't difficult to see how it conjured such an image on this particular morning.

Several colleagues of the Telvanni wizard we approached to find a safe place to house Ellory was very interested in the fact that we have a vampire ancient in our capture. I doubt Varus Vantinius will be so willing to give her up to the wizards when he gets here, but the thought of what they may do should they get her hands on her makes my stomach churn.

Approaching the window, I lean into its sill and breath in the fresh, morning air. A clear sky arches over Tel Vos, with only a few clouds to mar its otherwise unblemished surface. A gigantic root curls down beside the window from above, making its way down the tower in which I am standing and deep into the ground. At the top of that root is a Telvanni mushroom tower. I have never been to Tel Vos before, and its mix of regular, Imperial block-and-mortar architecture and the strange organic structures of the Telvanni took me aback when we first came ashore.

Captain Galatas dropped us off up the coast before resuming his scheduled patrol up in the eastern parts of the Inner Sea. I wasn't particularly happy about the fact that he was taking us even further away from home, but I quickly came around when I realised that no ordinary cage was going to hold Volrina Quarra. Now, I'm just grateful that it's finally all over. The person responsible for the attacks on Seyda Neen has been eliminated, and a great threat to all of Morrowind has been captured in the process. With all that has been accomplished, I feel as though I should be happy.

But, I am not.

The pair of shaky hands on the windowsill is the only outward sign, but, inside, my nerves are all but gone. I do not know why. I should probably just chalk it up to the fact that, in not too long, I will be leading the interrogation of a vampire ancient. But there's more to it than that. What that more is, though, I am not sure.

Taking my eyes from the hustle and bustle of the city below, I don my armour and move to leave. Just before I do, I reach down under the bed and retrieve something that I had placed there in the night. Shoving the item into the bag I have slung over my shoulder, I exit the room.

Winding my way up the staircases, I enter the mushroom that is the peak of Tel Vos. Here, I pass Master Aryon who bids me good morning. He was the wizard who offered to heal Ellory and give us a place to house her. His agreeableness continues to astonish me — Telvanni wizards are not known for their hospitality. The contrast between Aryon and Master Neloth is astounding.

"You're early, Caecilia," the aged Dunmer magician sneers. "I was just about to administer her next dose."

"Thank you for notifying me first, Neloth," I return.

Placated, he turns his nose up at me, nods to the guards, and pushes open the door.

Ellory's cell is a strange place, indeed; even stranger than the rest of the mushroom's interior. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands of runes cover its curved walls. A strange rust coloured light emanates from those runes, deepening the reds, yellows and purples of the enclosure.

I shut the door behind Neloth and I. Then, I catch a glimpse of Ellory.

Chained to the wall, she is helpless to stave off the wizard's assault. The needle enters her useless arm unhindered, and Neloth's unhesitating thumb pushes the plunger down. The blue liquid inside is forced down into her bloodstream, and she manages only a small hiss in response.

Her eyes still afire and her fangs now prominent, the woman looks very different to the woman I thought I once knew. But still, there is something there that I...

I shake the thought away, allowing the theories as to what exactly it is that Neloth is placing into her body to take-over.

Neloth smiles at the vampire's feeble attempt at resistance. Between the trauma she sustained from those arrows and all the tranquillisers we pumped into her on the trip up here last night, I'm surprised she can muster the energy to do anything at all.

"That should dampen those nasty vampiric abilities of your's," Neloth says, his tone mockingly paternal. "If you knew what other things will be making their way into your system in the coming months, you would be thankful that this is the only thing you will endue today."

Ellory attempts to remain nonplussed, but she shrinks from the man slightly, giving the fear inside her away.

Neloth laughs. An unsettling, high-pitched cackle that is far too gleeful for my comfort.

The wizard turns me. "She's all your's."

He exits the room and closes the door, leaving Ellory and I alone.

I sit on the room's sole chair, place my bag down onto the floor next to me, and face the woman bound to the wall.

There is nothing but silence between us. I am not sure where to begin.

I roll my eyes at my indecision, and decide to just say whatever comes to mind.

"How are you?" I ask.

The woman's grave expression fades for a moment, and then she laughs mirthlessly. "You're kidding, right?"

"Have they been treating you okay?"

"'They' meaning you?"

I frown. "I am not in charge of the Telvanni. Have they been treating you okay?"

She sighs. "I suppose the Empire likes to keep its most valuable properties in good condition..."

It takes all of my effort not to shiver as her voice travels through me. That same mix of tones and voices all speaking at once chills my soul. It is profane; it is unnatural. Still, I attempt to remain calm. "That is not why I asked."

Another awkward moment of silence.

"Why are you here, Ithaca Caecilia?"

"Why don't you tell me, Volrina Quarra?"

She flinches noticeably at the mention of her true name.

"You want information," she theorises. "You want to know what I am doing down here. What I have to do with the madman attacking Seyda Neen."

More awkward moments flow by, lost to the slipstream of time. "I am here, Volrina Quarra, to get your side of the story."

The woman smiles. "And why would you want something like that?"

"Because I do."

The woman scoffs at my words. "I am a vampire, Ithaca. Away from my clan, my words are meaningless. To mortals, I am an atrocity, an aberration. A bloodthirsty killer used to scare children at night. Nobody cares about my side of the story. I was condemned the moment you thwarted my escape, and condemned I will remain."

"Humour me, then," I say.

She no longer breathes, I notice. Doesn't even take in air to speak. Nothing I have previously encountered has been exempt from that need. She says nothing.

"I read the guy's journal," I say. "I found it on the ship after we boarded it. It made reference to a ring. The man we were searching for described himself as the new owner of that ring, and inferred that you want it back. To what was that referring?"

I see her eyes widen; she knows what I am talking about. "That ring was my possession. It was stolen from me. I was simply here to get it back."

"And I'm guessing it was no, mere ordinary ring?"

She nods.

"What did it do?"

Now, her eyes roll. "When you could not find the ring on my person, you undoubtedly would have realised I ditched it before my capture and had your forces scour the Isle of Tel Branora. You have the ring in your possession — why don't you tell me what it is?"

"Nobody knows about the ring except me," I say.

She obviously didn't expect that. "Why?"

"Why don't you tell me something first? What the hell is going on would be an excellent place to start."

She regards me suspiciously for a time, then speaks.

"One year ago, an Accident wandered into the clan's headquarters."

"An 'accident'?"

She disregards my request for clarification and continues. "This person said that he was bitten by a vampire from our bloodline and was turned several days later. He wanted us to take him in, give him shelter, train him, and give him safe access to sustenance. We told him he had to earn our trust, and, a few months later, he did."

"Aside from being away from the clan for a bit longer than he should have every so often, there was nothing amiss about his stay," she goes on. "Then, a few months ago, we discovered that he had left the base without filing a request. That was when I discovered several priceless possessions missing from my chambers, along with as a great deal of money. And that's when we received the reports from our external agents. This person had provoked them, allowed himself to be bitten, and then fled. He turned himself so that he could live among us and steal the prizes I have amassed during my existence. We were tricked."

"How much money did he steal?" I enquire.

"Twenty thousand septims."

Twenty _thousand_ septims? "What possible use would vampires have for such an amount of money?"

"To buy slaves and resources," she says. "Do not think, as many do, that we are an isolated force on the island, Ithaca Caecilia. Our influence is far more reaching than you could ever imagine."

I'll definitely give some thought to that one later.

"This person betrayed us," she says. "He betrayed me. I wanted him found. I did not wish to leave the task to any other. So, I came down here. Tracked him to the shrine at Bal Ur. There, I talked to Molag Bal himself. He told me that he had shunned the man for mocking his children with his treachery. He was not cured there."

"You can _cure_ vampirism?"

"If you are somehow able to win our Prince's favour, yes," she says. "A task not so easily done."

I bite my tongue. Yet more to ruminate about once this is all over. "How were you tracking this man?"

"I can ascertain the location of any vampire who shares my blood, but he — a mage and alchemist of skill beyond my understanding — was somehow able to interfere with my tracking abilities."

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "How is that possible?"

"That was what I was attempting to find out. I was still able to ascertain his location generally, but any form of accuracy beyond that was lost. I followed him as best I could, all the way to Tel Branora and then the Bitter Coast. Using a medicine given to me by a long dead old friend, I blended in. I talked to people. And that's when I found out about the attacks on Seyda Neen."

"And that's also when you found me." I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice; I am not quite successful.

"Yes. I followed you to Vivec. When I saw you board the ship, I joined you so that I could talk to you, and thrall you into helping me retrieve what was rightfully my own."

"But then you realised that I was stupid enough for the thrall to be unnecessary, and so you omitted that part of your plan entirely."

"Actually, that's when I discovered something that I have never seen before."

"What's that?"

"A mortal who could not be thralled."

I sit back in my chair, momentarily lost for words. That explains quite a lot. "Why do you think that is?"

"I do not know," she answers. "But it makes you very special."

"As a curiosity?" I ask. "Or a threat?"

"To _me_ ," she replies.

Her words puzzle me, but before I can ask her to clarify, she continues her story.

"This man's entire plan hinged on his timely return to his former, mortal state. Molag Bal foiled that plan. As such, he needed to do something else. During my interrogations of him, he told me what he was doing with those organs he was stealing."

I am afraid to ask. "What was he doing?"

"He was bringing himself back to life," the woman reveals. "He was replacing his dead, useless parts with those from the living. Piece by piece, he was cutting our connection. If we didn't catch him when we did, he would have succeeded."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that," I say.

Her glowing eyes fix upon me. "If you believe nothing else I say, Ithaca, then believe this: you should be grateful that this man is dead."

"Care to elaborate?" I ask.

"No."

I can come back to that one later. "Regardless," I say. "This man committed a crime against you. You had a right to track down your stolen possession."

"But I am the vampire," the woman reiterates. "It means nothing."

"You at least deserve a say."

"No I don't," she says. "They're right. About everything they say. I am a killer. I have been responsible for countless deaths in my centuries in Morrowind, and would have been responsible for thousands more if I were not here today. They are right to have me condemned."

She looks downward again. "I will admit that I would be a bit more accepting of my fate if that fate were death," she says quietly. "I am taken to understand that there is a chance I may be handed over to the Telvanni. They will run their cursed experiments on me. Some of us have been captured and subjected to all kinds of things by their ilk that I do not even wish to begin to recall."

The woman shudders then, and sympathy rushes through me. Again, I chide myself for my weakness. This is a _vampire_ we're talking about here.

Now that her story is concluded, the anxiety I felt earlier returns. Now, I know why it is that I felt the way I did coming down here. Now, I shall ask her the question that has been gnawing at the back of my mind since I woke up in the ocean.

But I do not need to ask her that question, for she already knows what I am about to say.

"I did not mean to hurt you, Ithaca," she says gently, and a sliver of anger shoots through me at being essentially talked down to by a chained vampire.

"But you did mean to use me," I say, fidgeting with my hands in an attempt to conceal the fact that my body is shaking. "I know what you are, Volrina Quarra. Your words can offer no comfort. Your kind knows only evil and betrayal, and nothing of right and love."

"You know NOTHING about me," the woman roars, the unexpected outburst send shivers through me.

"I know that your name is Volrina Quarra. That you are head of clan Quarra, one of Morrowind's oldest, most feared and most elusive vampire groups. Vvardenfell's Bouyant Armigers have been looking for you and your people for centuries, that means that you are hundreds of years old. You are responsible for the taking of countless lives and the enslavement and torture of many others. You are a vampire — one of Molag Bal's children — and you are now the property of the Imperial Legion. I think I know you pretty well."

The vampire sneers. "You read the fact sheet, Ithaca, but you do not know me."

"So why don't you fill me in."

The woman says nothing.

I reach down then, and reach into the bag at my side. From it, I retrieve a small wooden box. The item itself is beautiful — dark-wood inlayed with intricate gold patterning — but it is when the box is opened that it's beauty is truly allowed to shine. An elegant, crystal figurine opens with the lid of the box, and a catchy but sombre tune begins to play.

The vampire looks at me, her expression almost unreadable. She would have anticipated that I would have found this on her person, but I sense that she is greatly uncomfortable about the fact that this is in my hands.

"You didn't come all this way just for a ring, did you?" I say.

Silence.

"This meant something to you. Enough to risk your life to retrieve it."

"And so what if it does?" she snaps.

My quivering hands force the music box shut.

"Because if this meant something to you," I continue, "then maybe the things I know about vampires may not be as accurate as I might have imagined."

Her silence continues, long enough that I start to become frustrated. Just when I believe I can take it no more, however, a knock comes on the door.

Well, not a knock. More a beating.

I lift myself off the chair, but the door opens well before I get there.

Varus Vantinius himself then steps through.

Standing to attention, I raise a stiff hand to my head in salute. That's when I recognise the soldier standing behind him.

"Larrius?" I say, confused as to why he accompanied the commander of the Imperial Legion all the way to Tel Vos. What is his business here?

"Seize her."

Vantinius gestures toward me, and Varro advances toward me, handcuffs in hand.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demand as Larrius draws my hands behind my back.

"You are under arrest," Varus Vantinius explains.

"For what reason?"

"For too many crimes to list," Vantinius answers, lifting his gaze from me and aiming it square at the vampire. "Take her away."

Wordlessly, Varro obeys.

I look back toward Volrina Quarra as we reach the door. On her face, I spy something I never expected to see:

Concern.

Before I have a chance think about that look of concern, however, the door closes, and she is gone.


	21. Chapter 21

The guard's hand retreats out of the small opening at the base of the door to my cell. His footsteps echo down the hallway, and do not slow in response to my borderline hysterical pleas for information.

The food that the man left is surprisingly good, but my appetite is all but gone. No words were spoken regarding the reasons behind my arrest while I was escorted to this cell. Larrius Varro simply brought me, removed the handcuffs cutting into my wrists, and locked the door. He was distinctly unapologetic the entire time. I do not want to eat; I do not want to sit; all I want to know is what is going on.

Mottled stone walls surround me on all sides of the small cell. Only a small amount of light filters through the barred window in the door, making the place feel even more claustrophobic than it already is. Already I can feel the fact that I have been locked in a cage starting to weigh on me, and I am beginning to sympathise with every bird that has ever been locked in a cage.

I approach the window and survey the passage outside. This is a standard Imperial prison; Tel Vos' is no different to Pegaliad's, Moonmoth's, or any other Imperial fort. I was not placed in a cell like Ellory's; all that is required to hold me in is stone.

The prison outside is silent. From my attempts to locate a place to house Ellory, I know that Tel Vos' jail holds no other prisoners. I am alone.

Leaning back against the cold stone, I think back over the previous weeks, attempting to determine for what exactly I have been detained. I am fairly certain I know, but I hope to the gods that it is not true.

While I was aboard his ship, Captain Galatas told me that Varus Vantinius wasn't at all happy about the fact that I'd hired Sellus Gravius to help with the investigation into the madman attacking Seyda Neen. If what Sellus told me back at Desele's is true, then Vantinius isn't above abusing his position in the Legion to satisfy his personal vendettas. If the wound that Sellus cut by sleeping with the man's wife has still not healed, by involving the man in Legion business, I may have put myself directly into a political firing line. If that is indeed the case, there will be no recourse for me; I will be subject to whatever punishment Vantinius sees fit to dish out.

I begin to pace the small room while my head swells with information. Eventually, my mind wanders back to what seems to be its favourite topic:

Ellory.

Or, more accurately, Volrina Quarra.

The image of that look of concern in her burning eyes is still vivid, clear enough to remember the position of every pore upon her skin. She was worried for me. Or, least she appeared to be. What that means, I do not know. Why it is important to me that I know what that means, I also do not know.

Sounds from atop the stairs at the end of the passage travel down to my ears. Footsteps and voices become clearer and more distinct as they approach.

Through the barred window, I can see who it is who comes.

Varus Vantinius.

Finally, I may get some answers.

The latch flicks and light pours in. Vantinius steps though, his face half obscured by shadow.

A guard comes in after him, and heads straight for me.

I shrink away from the figure, as both my wrists enter his grasp. Encountering no resistance from me, he places both of those wrists into restraints on the back wall of the cell. Vantinius pulls in a chair from outside and takes up position on it on the room's far side.

The guard, having completed his work, is dismissed. The latch clicks back into place, and the guard's footsteps trail away, silencing completely after the sound of a shutting door.

I figure I will show my deference and allow the man to speak first. He does not. All he does is sit there, his face almost fully encompassed by the darkness, and waits.

"What is going on, sir?" I ask, my voice uncomfortably loud amongst the silence. "Why have I been placed in this cell?"

"You have been under the influence of a vampire ancient for over a week," he answers. "What did you expect?"

"I also _captured_ said vampire ancient," I respond. "Perhaps an appropriate amount of gratitude was what I had come to expect."

I can't see much, but I can see him shake his head. "That is not all," he continues. "You killed three Telvanni guards in Tel Branora, as well as the captain of an important transport ship. The Telvanni want my head for the murdered guards, as well as compensation for the disruptions to their shipping network."

That's not an unexpected piece of news, I will admit.

"I am also taken to understand that it was you who was responsible for the assassination of Rigmor Wry-Mouth and his entire crew, as well as the theft and destruction of his property."

" _I_ was not responsible for their deaths. The vampire was." I now know that it was Ellory who killed Rigmor and his crew so that we could secure his ship. She didn't leave for Balmora that night; she was with me the whole time.

The man does not speak for a long while. When he finally does, he disregards my explanation and moves on to something else.

"There is also the matter of Sellus Gravius," he says.

Here we go.

"Several days ago, an Altmer by the name of Arille and several concerned citizens from Seyda Neen came to me with some troubling information," the man goes on. "These people told me that, in the process of investigating the menace plaguing the village, one of my agents - you - had enlisted the help of a mercenary. This in itself would not have been a problem, but the involvement of this particular mercenary most certainly was."

"I am and was well aware of Sellus Gravius' past with the Legion," I tell him, choosing my words carefully to maintain some semblance of diplomacy. "He was obviously not my first choice, but time was of the essence. We needed more men."

"And so why did you not put in an expedited requisition for additional soldiers? Failing that, why did you not approach one of your sister forts about getting assistance from there?"

"I did put in an expedited requisition. Two of them, in fact," I say. "I was assured that they had been delivered and were awaiting approval."

"I know nothing of this," Vantinius says.

"And that's why I went to Sellus Gravius. Even during quieter times, Ebonheart has dragged their feet when it comes to honouring requests for resources. We've been left in the lurch at least a dozen times. There was a new victim in Seyda Neen almost every night. I wasn't going to let someone else die while we waited for some disinterested clerk in Ebonheart to give a piece of paper a rubber stamp. I needed to do something, right then and there, and I did."

"Sellus Gravius betrayed the Legion," the man says, again ignoring my attempts at explanation. It is quite clear that Vantinius does not want to listen my side of the story, and I am beginning to wonder why he is here at all.

"From what I hear," I respond. "Sellus Gravius didn't betray the Legion. He betrayed you."

Vantinius falls silent. Perhaps he did not anticipate that I would know Sellus' side of the story.

"Sellus Gravius had been skimming money off the top of the Census and Excise office's coffers for months," he says quietly. "He was stealing money from the Empire itself. Does that not constitute a betrayal of the Legion?"

"I have heard differently," I respond cooly.

"Then you have heard wrong."

I shift my weight in an attempt to relieve some of the pain caused by the tight grip of these accursed shackles. "I do not know what I believe," I say honestly - I do not truly know if Sellus story was legitimate or no. "But I do know one thing: the person who locked an innocent person inside this cell was not Sellus Gravius, it was you."

"An _innocent person_?" Vantinius cries. "You have involved a man dishonourably discharged from the Legion in official Legion business; jeopardised our already fragile relationship with the Telvanni; conspired to murder the entire crew of a legitimate slave trading vessel; and romantically consorted with a vampire ancient. You tell me, Caecilia - are you truly innocent?"

The grip I have on my temper slips through my fingers. "How in Oblivion did I 'conspire to murder' the crew of a slave ship? We're talking about _Rigmor Wry-Mouth_ here."

"Wry-Mouth may have been a scoundrel, but he had paid for his crimes," Vantinius says. "His business was perfectly legal in Morrowind."

Varus Vantinius gets up out of his chair, and slowly makes his way toward me in the darkness. He stops not too far away from me, the pockmarked skin of his face entering the path of the light. He says nothing. Instead, he merely regards me with a curious stare that makes my skin crawl.

"Why are you here, Vantinius?" I ask softly. "You could have sent someone to tell me all of this rubbish. Why did _you_ come here?"

"You were responsible for delivering a vampire ancient into our hands," he says. "I can't even begin to describe how valuable the capture of such a creature will be. We have been looking for a way to deal with the vampire scourge in Morrowind for years, but the ashlands are extensive. It would take years to scout every Daedric and Dwemer ruin, abandoned mine, natural cavern, waistworks, building, and house in Morrowind for vampiric habitation. And that's not even counting the uninhabitable areas in Red Mountain where the Blight disease is still strong."

"You did not answer my question, Vantinius." My patience is all but gone. "Why are you here?"

"I am here because that thing in the cell above refuses to speak." His words are coloured with frustration. That frustration amuses me. I am glad Ellory is giving the bastard a hard time.

"What has that got to do with me?"

"You were... involved... with the creature," he says. "You undoubtedly must have learned something about her. I want to know every piece of knowledge that came into your possession."

So that's the reason he came here.

"You correct," I tell him. "I did learn much." I make no move to say more.

Vantinius knows I'm not going to give up any potential information so easily, especially given the fact that I have so little to lose. "We would be willing to make certain concessions to you, should you choose to cooperate."

I smile. There is much I could tell him. Like the fact that vampirism may be cured in Bal Ur. That Ellory has 'family' in Balmora. That she came from Northern Morrowind. Perhaps most importantly, that she left a ring of great power on the Isle of Tel Branora. But, I am not going to give up that information so easily. I just might get out of here after all.

"Tell me two things that I want to know, Vantinius," I say, renewed confidence in my voice. "And I will tell you one."

"Doesn't sound like a fair bargain," he points out.

"But it is the only one you are going to get."

He sighs. "Very well. Ask away."

"I want to know why the hell Larrius Varro is up here, and I want to know the fate of Sellus Gravius."

A few moments go by. "That is acceptable. Larrius Varro is up here because he has taken a personal interest in your case."

"A 'personal interest'?"

"And the search for Sellus Gravius has turned up nothing."

I figure that's all I'm going to get from him. I have no idea if the guy's words can be trusted, but still, I hang my head. Despite everything, I believe Sellus to be a good man, and I hope that he is okay.

"Your turn," Vantinius says.

I think for a time, questioning whether or not I should tell him something worthwhile. I could lie to the man, and I would get a great deal of satisfaction by doing so. But such an action would mean acknowledging the fact that I am allied with the Legion no longer. I am not ready to do that just yet.

"She told me that she has 'family' in Balmora," I say. It is perhaps the least valuable piece of information I could offer him, but I believe he would expect me to save the best stuff until last anyhow.

"Interesting," he breathes, mulling over the implications of this new information. "But I'm going to need something more than that."

"Then so am I," I respond.

At that moment, Vantinius does something I did not expect. Almost mirroring my interrogation of the vampire, Vantinius removes Ellory's music box from his coat. "Tell me what this is, and we will see about moving you to nicer accommodations. Why is it that a vampire was carrying a music box, of all things, during her mission?"

"I haven't even the slightest clue," I answer truthfully.

"I know she talked to you, Caecilia," he says. "What did you learn in there?"

"Again, I learned lots, but you interrupted me before I could find out anything about that box."

The man raises Ellory's music box and holds it over the floor. "If this is just an ordinary music box, then obviously you wouldn't mind if I smashed it, right here, right now." He continues to hold the box over the floor, and awaits my reply.

"I never said it was an ordinary music box, Vantinius. I don't know why she was carrying it."

He puts the box away, and, to my surprise, I let out a breath. I am not sure why I am relieved that Ellory's possession is no longer in any immediate danger, but I am.

"What about the creature that was attacking Seyda Neen," Vantinius continues. "What was he…"

For some reason, Vantinius' voice trails off. I can still hear him speaking, but it is distant somehow, like someone speaking on the peripheries of my attention.

I strain to hear his echoed words, but I can make little sense out of them now. Feeling in my body leaves me as I do, and I realise that I am losing contact with reality, like someone on the verge of passing out.

My body struggles against the chains in the wall, and I take in the sight of it flailing there with detached curiosity.

The world ebbs and flows around me, and I see Vantinius amongst the waves. He has moved away from me and toward the door. There, he beats his hands against it as hard as he possibly can.

I wonder what it is he is attempting to get away from so badly.

That's when I see his face.

He recoils from me, in raw and unfiltered horror. I am not sure what to think of that sight — it is just an interesting fact.

Before I am able to see anything else, I feel the world slip out from under my feet, and weariness begins to take me.

In a few moments, I see no more.


	22. Chapter 22

I wake to the sight of a golden ceiling covered in thousands of glowing white patterns and runes. The detail there is lost to me for a moment, as my vision blurs and clears in rapid succession.

Grogginess still grips me hard after the tranquilliser did its work.

The smooth, hard table on which my back rests is cold. My attempt to rise from that table is stymied by the thick, leather restraints which surround my wrists, ankles, and neck.

I am tired; far too tired to struggle against whatever tests I am to be subjected to today. My previous struggles against their attempts to take samples of my blood, skin, and hair have all been for naught, but I cannot simply sit there and allow it all to happen. To do so would be worse than death.

They have been collecting such samples from my body for the past week. All of their confounded poking and prodding was done inside my cell in Tel Vos' Imperial prisons. This is the first time I have been anywhere different, and, based on that architecture up there, I know where it is I now am.

"Good morning." Neloth's pompous voice resonates through my body like the voice of a god. By the Nine, it is true — I have been turned over to the Telvanni!

Neloth's bearded face enters my vision. "I suppose it is never a 'good' morning for creatures like yourself, though, is it, Ithaca Caecilia?"

I do not reply. I could not if I wanted to. The needle I spy in his hand sends my heart into overdrive, and I muster all the energy I can to try to break free of my restraints. The fear silences me. As if being turned into a vampire wasn't trauma enough; now I must deal with this.

Neloth laughs at my futile struggle for freedom. "They warned me that you have a tendency to carry on. Why can you not be like your companion? She at least has the wisdom to realise that there is no chance of escape."

The manner in which he addresses me is perhaps the most unnerving thing about our exchange. He speaks to me as if I am nothing, like someone to whom the concept of rights simply cannot apply. Unfortunately for me, he is likely right. There are no legal protections for vampires among the Dunmer or the Imperials in Morrowind — in the eyes of the law, they are less than cattle.

In a scene highly reminiscent of the dream I had before this nightmare started, Neloth stares down at me with amusement as the tip of the needle breaks my skin. I watch in horror as the transparent cylinder atop that needle fills with my blood, until the plunger can be pull upward no more.

Neloth's face then departs, and I hear him shuffle wordlessly to the other side of the room. I try to get a look at what he is doing with the blood sample, but I cannot. All I am able to do is wait.

Now, I realise the significance of the dreams that I have having. In Vampires of Vvardenfell, I read that the ultimate effect of porphyric hemophilia — the vampire disease — is invariably preceded by vivid and disturbing dreams. I feel stupid for not seeing the signs before.

Over the past week, I have been replaying the sequence of events that led me to my current predicament over and over in my head. The only possible way I could have contracted the disease, I have concluded, is that Ellory must have bitten me. She must have done so before casting me adrift on that raft and out onto the sea. That is when the dreams started, and it would have been her only opportunity to do so without it entering my notice. The question is: why? It's not like she fell over and bit me by accidentally ; she did so for a reason. What did she have to gain by having me turn? If I ever see the woman again, I will be sure to ask her. It is only one of many questions I have for her.

Neloth's face returns.

He peers down over me, his expression still amused.

It is when I catch sight of the scalpel in his hand that my struggles against the straps which bind me become desperate —again a nightmare literally coming to life.

"What are you going to do to me, Neloth?" My desperate voice comes out just like Ellory's, hollow and amplified, with many different registers acting as one. I flinch at the sound; my own voice chilling my spine.

"This and that," Neloth replies offhandedly as he surveys my body. "I am attempting to gather as much raw data as I possibly can regarding your physiology before you are shipped back to Ebonheart."

It is truly a sad state to be in when one is relieved to hear that they will soon be in a cell inside an Imperial prison, but I am. If only I can just get through my time here, I will be okay. I do have hope.

I realise that it is a long-shot, but I ask my question regardless. "How long will I be here?"

To my surprise, he answers. He does so with a sour expression on his face. "Two weeks."

That is both the best and worst news I have ever heard in my life. I just need to get through two weeks.

"Do not concern yourself," he says, feeling my upper arm like as if he is searching for something inside. "It was part of the agreement that you are returned to the Imperials unharmed."

Relief spreads over my body, but it is not enough to stem the fear of the small, infinitely sharp object in the old man's hand.

Once Neloth lets go of my arm, he holds the scalpel above a tray on a nearby table and pours a bottle of rubbing alcohol over it. My struggles begin in earnest as he uses a towel to wipe the liquid off the blade. He moves the scalpel toward me.

I jump. "Why are you doing this? What do you hope to gain from keeping me here? I have rights, Neloth! I was turned into what you see before you against my will. You should be helping me here!"

To my relief, the blade takes a break from its journey toward me. Then, Neloth scoffs.

"Perhaps you may have some basic rights in Ebonheart, vampire," the man says quietly. "But you most certainly do not here. House Telvanni has paid a heavy price for your brief stay, and we intend to get our money's worth."

The scalpel nears me again. "Your powers are a mystery to me," Neloth explains as he begins his evil work. "How your kind continues to live in death is a mystery to me. Everything about who and what you are is a mystery to me, Ithaca Caecilia."

He moves his face closer now, much too far into my personal space. "I do not like mysteries."

I feel the blade as the sharp metal touches against my skin. My entire body stills in a childish attempt to please him via supplication. "I thought you said that you were not allowed to harm me," my hysteric voice points out.

His beaming face moves even closer, close enough for me to smell his foul breath.

"That is true," he says softly, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But, unfortunately, accidents do happen."

With that, the knife slices into my body, and I begin to scream.

* * *

Clutching my bandaged arm in agony, I am escorted to my new cell.

The sound of stone scraping against stone heralds the opening of the large, circular door to the space. Inside, the chamber is exactly like the one Ellory was housed in when I last saw her.

The faceless guards push me to the back of the wall and begin to secure me to the restraints there. I am too weak to fight them. Wordlessly, they fix me to my bonds, and depart much the same.

There, underneath the strange runes, I stand, grateful for a few minutes peace after the trauma of the last few hours.

That peace is short-lived.

The circular door slowly swivels outward, allowing someone to step inside.

Larrius Varro stands there, arms crossed. He stares at me blankly, with uncaring eyes.

He enters the room, trailing a chair behind him. Then, he sits down.

"How are you, Ithaca?" he asks, though his tone could not be any more detached. He eyes the white linen wrapped around my arm.

"Great," I say facetiously, remarking internally upon how, just a few weeks ago, I was the one sitting in that chair over there. "I have been turned into a vampire against my will and given over to Telvanni scientists so that they may experiment upon me. A much better vacation than the one to Cyrodiil I had planned."

Varro's expression remains unchanged. "The Telvanni were willing to pay a high price for the both of you."

"What did they offer?" I ask.

"Tel Uvirith," he responds flatly.

"Wow," I say, cursing internally the horrific voice that has become my own. "I did not realise that I was so valuable."

"That the _vampire ancient_ was so valuable," Varro corrects. "Neloth barely mentioned you during the negotiations. He wanted Volrina Quarra. Everyone does. Everybody wants a piece of her — in most cases, literally. She may hold the key to defeating vampires all across Tamriel. These creatures have been a problem for millennia. Thanks to her capture, that may soon change. Whoever is responsible for that change will undoubtedly make millions."

"I can be cured, Larrius," I say quickly.

Even in light of my revelation, he does not react. "How?"

"A daedric shrine in the Molag Amur region holds the key. I need to get out of here and to that shrine as quickly as I possibly can!"

"What do you want me to do?" Larrius asks, as if doing so is necessary.

"Help me get out of here!"

"Why would I do that?"

I figured that he would at least be somewhat agreeable. After everything I have experienced of this man lately, however, I am not sure why. "Why not?"

"What possible reason would I have when I was the one who encouraged Vantinius to investigate your 'crimes'?"

His announcement hits me like a ton of bricks. "You?"

"Yes." A smile falls over the man's face; not a nice one.

"You came here to gloat?"

"I did."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," he says, rising from his chair. "Nothing at all."

He advances closer to me. "I just wanted you to know."

He leaves.

The door closes.

And I begin to weep.


	23. Chapter 23

I am alone.

I have no allies in this world anymore.

As such, getting out of this place is going to be on me and me alone. I need to come up with a plan.

The first thing I need to do is get out of these shackles. Then, I'm going to need to find a way to get through that door.

I am at a loss regarding what to do about the shackles, so I turn my attention to the easiest target.

The massive, circular piece of stone that is the door seems to open automatically in response to someone walking close to it. I do not believe there to be a locking mechanism on the other side. As such, it might be just a simple case of walking up to it and waiting. If they've placed all of their trust in the leather straps that form my restraints, this might be easier than I expected. However, if those runes up there do more than just suppress vampiric abilities, I'm screwed.

Casting my eyes to the straps, I see that they are not particularly complicated in design. They are merely thick pieces of fabric, wrapped tightly over themselves several times, and then bound with a hook. Despite their simple design, though, they're going to be damned hard to defeat. Even with a knife, I doubt I could cut through them in my current position. This puzzle is going to be a challenge to solve.

While I search the room for anything that might give me a hint as to how I may escape, the runes catch my attention. They are there in order to suppress vampiric powers. From what I know of vampires, those powers include something that may be of great help right now: superhuman strength.

Putting all of my force into the manoeuvres, I attempt to rip myself free of my bonds.

Nothing.

If anything, I feel weaker than I ever have before. Perhaps even more worrying, I believe I know why that feeling of weakness is so great.

It isn't just the fact that large amounts of blood have recently been taken from me, or the fact that I have undergone a serious trauma when Neloth removed some of my blood. No, this weakness is different. This weakness comes from hunger.

That hunger does not take the shape of any kind of hunger I have previously felt. It is a different kind of hunger, but as to what exactly it is for which I hunger, I do not know. Everything I know about vampires, however, means that the answer to that question is in no way a mystery. I need blood. And not just enough to replace that which these Imperial and Telvanni bastards have taken from me. I am going to need to feed, and soon. That in and of itself is going to be a problem, but, let's take things one step at a time.

Just as I am about to give reefing on the leather straps another go, I hear something outside.

Shuffling. Movement. Someone is out there, I am certain of it. I have never been called upon multiple times in a single day. What is going on?

The door opens.

Another one of those faceless Telvanni guards marches in. He stops before me and looks me over.

Then, without a word, he grabs my face.

Squeezing the sides of my jaw, he holds my face open.

I struggle against his assault, but I can do nothing.

In his other hand, he holds a small, glass jar. Inside, is a red liquid highly reminiscent of what I currently crave: blood.

It is not blood, though; the consistency is all wrong. Blood has a certain thickness to it; it moves a bit like molasses, whereas the whatever it is that's in that jar moves like water.

The guard flicks off the jar's cap, and it rolls unceremoniously along the floor. Then, he moves the lip of the jar to my mouth.

My jaws forced open, I am unable to stop the liquid from filling my mouth. When every last drop of it is in, he clasps his entire hand over my lips, preventing the liquid from getting free. Then, he holds my nose.

I know what he wants me to do. He wants me to swallow. My throat closed off, whatever the hell this liquid is will not go down. He is trying to force my hand.

Eventually, I can take no more. In an attempt to begin breathing once again, I open my throat. The liquid tastes vile, but it goes down.

He lets my mouth go, and moves back slightly, watching me and waiting for something.

Then, to my surprise, he drops to the ground.

As his lifeless corpse crumples, I see the knife lodged in his back. After that, I see the person responsible for putting it there.

I can hardly believe my eyes. "Sellus!"

Beaming, the man crosses the threshold and comes toward me, but I watch him noticeably slow as he gets a better look at my face.

"Gods, what happened to you?" he asks.

"You don't know?"

"I know some of it," Sellus says, unhooking the straps around my wrists and ankles, making short work of them. "Didn't know about this, though."

"Ellory is a vampire, Sellus," I say, highly self-conscious about the voice in which my words are spoken. "She must have bitten me after she knocked us out on that ship. What happened to you? Vantinius told me they never found you."

"Vantinius wishes," he says. "Imperial patrol ship from Gnaar Mok found me floating atop a piece of wreckage the next morning. I was back in Ebonheart within the hour. After that, I was arrested by Varus Vantinius himself."

The final restraint comes free. I walk away from the wall, and give Sellus my thanks. "Same thing happened to me. What charges did they lay against you?"

"Didn't say. I was never given an explanation before I got out."

"They let you go?"

He smiles. "No."

For a moment, I feel as though I should do something about the fact that this man has escaped from prison, but I'm pretty sure such things aren't my problem anymore. The Legion and I are through.

"How did you get out?" I ask, rubbing the pain from my wrists.

"Ra'zhid," he answers. "Being in the Thieves Guild most certainly has its perks. Only waited two hours before the Khajiit arrived to get me out."

I nod, impressed. "How do we get out of here?"

"I have a plan." He indicates the door. "This way."

As we walk, he regards me with a serious expression. "I hate to ask, but, have you fed?"

The red liquid the guard fed me immediately took the bite out of that hunger I was feeling. It is still there, but far less pronounced. "It appears so."

His brow furrows, but the answer satisfies him. "Come on."

I grab his arm.

"We have one thing to do before we go, Sellus," I tell him. "We need to go and get Ellory."

Sellus' face turns grave. "Why?"

"She tells me that I can rid myself of this horrible disease in a daedric shrine by the name of Bal Ur. Do you know of it?"

"Yes," he replies. "But if you already know where to go, why do you need her?"

"Because I am taken to understand that it isn't as simple as walking through the door. The daedric Prince may not even speak to me; I very well may need Ellory's help."

He says nothing for a short while; this obviously didn't factor into his escape plans.

"I see no reason why she would have been transported to a different city," I say. "If we..."

"She is here," Sellus says quietly.

"Do you know where?"

"I do. But, for as much as I hate the Empire, and as much as I despise the Telvanni, releasing a vampire ancient is in no way a good idea."

"If I leave her now, Sellus, I may never be able to find her again. I do not want to spend another moment like this, and most certainly not forever. We need to get her."

Sellus straightens up. "We will talk to her," he announces. "Then, we'll see about letting her go."

I nod, and we exit the room.


	24. Chapter 24

Sellus grumbles quietly as we make our way down the cylindrical Telvanni passage. "This is round two of me saving your ass, Caecilia," the man whispers. "You are going to owe me big after this."

"I agree," I respond in equally hushed tones.

We pass several doors of similar to construction to the one back at my cell. Ellory could conceivably be in any of them. Sellus seems to have a pretty good idea of where he is going, though, so we don't stop to check them.

Eventually, I see a door that is different from all the others. The surface of this circle is glowing slightly, forming a reflective surface off which light from all colours of the spectrum bounce.

"The door is enchanted," Sellus warns, and reaches out toward it. "Hopefully that enchantment only affects vampires."

"Is it locked?"

"To all who don't have this, yes." He pulls out a small, intricately patterned medallion from his pocket, and then waves it in front of the door.

"How did you get that?"

"Swiped it from Neloth's quarters on the way up."

Again, I am impressed. "You're even shiftier than I'd thought, Sellus Gravius."

He smiles as the door begins to open. When the circle turns completely, Ellory's form is revealed inside.

The vampire looks even worse than she did the night we brought her here on the ship. Her face is gaunt and her hair is a mess; blood is caked over her forehead, and her skin has been bruised all over.

I rush to her side. "My gods, what have they done to you?" I breathe.

She closes her eyes and opens them slowly. "Ithaca?"

"It's me, Ellory," I say.

She looks so weak.

When the woman gets a good look at my eyes, I watch her's widen ever so slightly. Whatever it is the fact that we are here or the fact that I am now a vampire that surprises her, I do not know.

"We're going to get you out of here," I say.

Behind me, I hear Sellus clear his throat.

I turn to him. "We cannot leave her like this."

He looks downward and shakes his head. Then, he looks urgently toward the door. "Fine. Just hurry."

Undoing her restraints, she falls off the wall and into my arms. "Can you walk?" I speak into her hair.

With some effort, she manages to stand of her own ability. "I believe so."

"Then come on."

I attempt to pull Ellory toward the door, but she refuses to move. "What's wrong?"

"Why are you helping me?" she asks.

"You are going to help rid me of this curse," I say to her, a little more forcefully than I had intended. "You will help me rid of the curse that you caused."

Her burning eyes meet mine. "Very well, Ithaca Caecilia," she says. "But you are going to need to do something for me first."

Sellus, up until now watching the door intently, looks to me and rolls his eyes.

"What would you have us do?" he asks her.

"You are going to help me retrieve what is rightfully mine," she answers. "I want my music box back."

* * *

Sellus' mood has not improved since we crossed the border between Telvanni and Imperial sections of Tel Vos, and I do not blame him. I haven't even the slightest idea of why we are all risking our lives over a random music box, but, if I want to get cured, it looks like that's what we're doing.

We avoid several guards on our way down to Varus Vantinius' temporary quarters. Again, we are relying on Sellus' knowledge to help guide our way; I have no idea where we are going.

There are very few windows in the halls of Imperial forts. I am not sure what time it is, but, if it is daylight out there, the stuffy, closed-in passageways that I came to loathe so much during my time in the Legion may very well save my life.

Just as Sellus turns to go down another hall, he pulls himself back around the corner.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"Guard," he whispers back.

I keep watch on our rear; the passage behind us is mercifully quiet.

"He's not a problem at the moment," Sellus continues. "But he very well might be soon."

"What makes you say that?"

"He's heading toward your former cells."

"That is a problem," I confirm.

Then, Ellory chimes in. "Does anyone find it strange that we have yet to encounter any real resistance on our journey down here? Why were there no guards outside our cells?"

"It was foolish, I agree," Sellus says. "Especially to keep two vampires in such close proximity. However, neither of you were going to defeat those restraints on your own. They didn't anticipate that you would have help, for who would be sympathetic to a vampire?"

"Who indeed," Ellory says in an odd tone of which I do not know what to make. "Is the path clear?"

"Yes," Sellus says confirms, taking his hand from his sword. "Come."

We continue to make our way through the dim passages of stone, until we come to stop in front a door.

Sellus places his ear to it and listens.

"Nobody home," he says, and tries the handle.

It easily falls open.

Ellory pulls me out of the doorway as it does.

Sellus peers into the large, open space and deems it clear.

"Is there a window in there?" Ellory asks him.

"Yes," he answers, "but it is dark outside."

Satisfied, Ellory allows me to move inside. She holds my wrist gently as we do.

Sellus is correct; a blanket of stars sits outside the window, and fresh air blows in.

Tel Vos' guest quarters are a spartan affair; only a bed, desk, and chair are in the room. The desk is what we are interested in, and Sellus and I move toward it.

Here, we are not so lucky. The desk is locked.

Sellus retrieves a small, rusted lockpick from a pouch inside his armour. Then, he gets to work.

I keep an eye out of the door while he does, sword in hand. Holding the heavy weapon graces me with a comfort I have not felt for a long time. If somebody were to discover us here and sound the alarm, the sword would be useless against the forces that would surround us. Still, the weapon works to soothe my fears almost entirely.

Fortunately, no-one stumbles upon us before Sellus manages to open the desk's drawer.

I approach the desk and look inside. Thankfully, the music box is there. Better still, it is entirely unharmed; not even a scratch. I do not know why I am so relieved to find it in this condition, but I am.

Retrieving the box from inside, I place it in Ellory's hand.

She takes it carefully, with a reverence I would have thought not befitting of such an object.

Clutching the box tightly, she nods to me. "Now, we may go."


	25. Chapter 25

From beneath the hood of the robe I stole from the Imperial Cult Shrine, the bustling markets of Tel Vos can be seen. We make our way through the crowd, avoiding the people clambering to see the latest potion demonstration, while pretending to be oblivious to the shouting traders trying to lure us to their stores.

I look up the night sky, silently thanking the stars for their presence. If it were day, things would have been much different for us. As it is not, we have been able to make our way out of the fort with little trouble. All we need do now is make it through these markets and out to the lonely plains of the Grazelands outside, and it will all be over. At least, this part of it, anyway.

Several Telvanni guards patrol the perimeter of the marketplace, underneath the giant walls of stone and roots that is this city. We pass them without incident, Ellory and I appearing to them as a pair of mere Imperial Cult monks out on an evening stroll. Sellus accompanies us as we walk, his mostly enclosed helmet disguising his face.

It does not take us long to reach the arched openings in the stone walls. The two guards stationed there do not say a word to us as we pass through. Once we reach the bottom of the hill below the city, I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank the gods," Sellus says, removing his helmet.

I lift the hood of my robe and run a finger through my matted, sweaty hair. Then, I look back up the hill; from here, only the mushroom peak on top is visible. If it weren't for Sellus, I muse, both Ellory and I would still be up there in Neloth's grasp.

"It is almost feels too easy, doesn't it?" I say, unbuckling the sword from beneath my robes and tying it over the top.

"Tell that to my heart," Sellus grumbles. The man does look quite shaken.

I approach him, and place my hand upon his shoulder. "Thank you," I say to him earnestly. "Thank you."

He smiles then. "No problem." The man turns to Ellory. "What are you going to do now?"

"We are going to go home," Ellory announces, in a tone a bit too certain for my liking, looking at me.

"Home?" Sellus asks.

Ellory looks out over the Grazelands. The moons above cast their soft light over the rolling hills and grasses of the plains, as well as the range of mountains in the distance. It is quite beautiful, but, looking at this place, so far from my home, I feel little other than dread.

"To my clan's base," the woman clarifies.

"Ithaca?" Sellus looks to me. He raises an eyebrow, and if asking me 'what is it you want to do?' I wish I had an answer.

Ellory then begins to look at me the same way, and their expectant, seemingly competing glares, begin to stress me out.

"Can we not proceed to Bal Ur directly?" I ask Ellory.

The woman's face hardens. "Bal Ur is a week's walk south at least, and I am not in the best of shape as it stands. I require rest, and we require supplies. I also have business to attend to. I wish to return home first. Then, we can go."

I turn to Sellus. "What are you going to do?"

He looks out over the Grazelands as well, and speaks. "I will return to the Ascadian Isles. Round up my men. We will continue as before."

"Carrying out those plans you mentioned, huh?"

The man smiles. "Indeed." His face grows serious. "There will always be a place for you with us if you want it, Ithaca. We have ways of protecting you from the Legion."

"As do I," Ellory states, almost as a challenge to Sellus' generous offer.

I look out over the hilly plains myself now. The dark horizon holds no clues as to my future. I have no idea where I am going; what will happen to me after Bal Ur. As an enemy of the Empire, there are few places on Tamriel that are safe. Not even my old home in Cryodiil is an option for me now.

Sellus and Ellory continue to watch me, waiting for me to make up my mind as to what I am going to do.

"I will go with you."

My words are addressed to Ellory.

Sellus nods.

I approach him, and wrap my arms around the man. "Be safe," I tell him.

"You as well."

I release Sellus from my grasp. He nods at Elorry, then walks away.

I feel the vampire's arm wrap around my waist.

I turn to her, and notice that she looks at me with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I do not know," I answer frankly. "Where are we going?"

Ellory points to a spot at the base of the mountains in the distance. There, I can make out indistinct shapes. While I cannot be sure at this distance, it appears to be a Dwemer ruin.

"Nchuleft," Ellory confirms. "Come."

The vampire takes me by the hand, and leads me down the path.

Before I can get too far, I look down the road toward the position I expect Sellus to be, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the man before he leaves us forever.

He is already gone.

* * *

We walk for an hour, under the moons and stars. The night is quiet; aside from a few Golden Saints wandering around in the distance, we are alone.

Neither of us speak as we travel. Talking doesn't feel right to me at the moment, and I believe Ellory feels the same.

The strange towers of the ancient Dwemer fortress comes in view. Vvardenfell is littered with such structures, abandoned centuries ago by their mysterious inhabitants when the entire race vanished in circumstances unknown. I have had the misfortune of wandering into a Dwemer ruin on only one occasion. All I remember of the place is heat, stone, and death — a perfect place for vampires, I suppose.

"Is that it?" I ask, pointing toward the towers.

"It is," she says, watching me take in the impressive sight before us.

"What of the animunculi?" The Dwemer left behind many mechanical guards when they left this realm, most of them still charged and highly dangerous.

She laughs. "All destroyed long ago."

We proceed further toward the tower in silence, Ellory guiding me with one hand behind my back. I cannot help feel strange at the role-reversal. All this time, I have felt like the one who was in control — an Imperial Legion garrison commander leading an investigation against a great evil in the name of good. I was in charge — of men, of Ellory. Now, I am not in charge of anything, and my fate in is in the hands of another. This is going to take some getting used to.

We make our way through the forest of stone and into the heart of the ruin. There, we come upon a sphere lodged halfway into one of the ruin's wall. This sphere, about as tall as I stand, is a Dwemer door. From what I can recall, these doors are opened by the actuation of a nearby lever. I survey the area around us, but there is no such lever to be found.

Seconds pass, and Ellory does nothing. She merely stands by the door, and waits as the wind tousles her hair. Just as I am about to say something, the great sphere begins to open. The object moves sideways with a great sound, and recedes into the wall. The open half of the circle reveals the presence of a second, regular door. We proceed through that door, and enter the ruin.

Inside, it is deserted.

"This way," Ellory instructs, guiding me down the dimly lit passages of the ruin.

The heat radiating from the metal floor beneath my feet is almost unbearable. The Dwemer, I've read, generally built their fortresses and cities in highly volcanic areas, in order to tap into the geothermal energy present there. Here, near the base of the largest volcano is Tamriel, is definitely a good spot.

The passages down which I am being guided eventually terminates at a round, stone door. Ellory approaches the door, and, as she did at the one outside, waits.

In a few moments, the door opens. When it does, several dozen pairs of glowing eyes are revealed on the other side.

The fear hits me immediately, and I turn to Ellory for reassurance.

She smiles at me, and wraps her arm tighter around my waist.

"Welcome, Ithaca Caecilia, to the House of Clan Quarra."


	26. Chapter 26

The glowing eyes of a hundred vampires lights the larger chamber in which Ellory and I stand. The woman before me wears an exquisite dress of a kind I've never previously seen. This dress, I am told, marks her as the Queen.

She comes toward me and takes my hand.

Nobody speaks.

Nobody breathes.

The audience merely watches on as their Queen brings the new vampire into her embrace.

When I am released from that embrace, two lesser vampires come up behind me. They drape dark, patterned silks over my shoulders, ensconcing me in a fabric both strange and beautiful to behold.

Silently, the familiar face of the vampire ancient dips toward me, and mine to hers. Then, she looks out over the crowd, and opens her arms out toward them. Each pair of eyes darkens as lids fold over them, and, all at once, our audience bows. They remain in that position for quite a long time. They do not move; their chests do not rise or fall; they do not fidget or adjust their positions; they simply exist, as still as the dead that they are.

Once the vampires resume their standing positions, another comes to me. She outstretches her hand, in which rests a cushion, to Ellory. On that cushion is a ring.

Ellory gently takes that ring between her thumb and forefingers. Raising my hand, she slides the ring delicately over one of my fingers. The ring is a simple band of dark, glistening stone, but it is too heavy to be mere ornamentation. There is power inside of this band, of a kind I find myself wanting to understand.

Ellory backs away from me, then. Unsure of what to do next, I continue to stand where I am. The woman bows to me, then waits. Figuring that it's the most appropriate response to her gesture, I do the same.

In truth, I have no idea at all what this ceremony is about, but Ellory was insistent that I needed to participate. Not wanting to appear ungrateful for her hospitality, I agreed.

The ring now on my finger, our audience begins to disperse, each pair of glowing eyes filing back out into the tunnels to carry out the strange tasks that fill their days.

The vampire ancient entwines her arm around mine, and escorts me down the steps and back toward her chambers.

As we traverse the metal halls, it strikes me as to just how different this place is from Cyrodiil; how different it is from Seyda Neen. The fact that some choose to live here, like this, is beyond my ability to comprehend.

Several vampires pass us on way down the halls. They bow their heads, but do not speak. Not a single word has left the lips of even a single soul since I came here, but sometimes I believe I can hear their whispers. Occasionally, their silence gives me the urge to grab one of them by the neck and force speech from them, but, I do not.

If I were still in the Imperial Legion, this would have been the find of the century. I would feel much excitement at having discovered this place. Now, my life in the Legion is over, and the only feeling this place gives me is one of forebode.

The Queen's chamber is unlike any other chamber in the ruin. Swords crafted by the daedra themselves hang upon the walls, alongside tapestries bearing images from distant lands. Drawers made entirely of gold leaf line sit underneath, upon which rest jewels and furs of kinds I have never previously seen. I have been in this place for over a day now, and I still cannot help be taken with this room's splendour. It must have taken Ellory centuries to amass such a collection.

Amidst all of this opulence, one, particular feature stands out among the rest. In the centre of the room, a throne made of pure ebony sits. From a distance, the chair appears to be constructed from smooth, formless stone. Upon closer inspection, however, one can see that each piece is made up thousands of small, replica skulls, all blending into one another to form a larger whole. It is a spectacular piece of work, but also a highly disturbing one.

Ellory moves gracefully toward the chair, and sits.

"You have questions," she says.

"I do."

"Close the door, and you may ask them."

The stone door closes, and I waste little time.

"What the hell was all that about?"

"Being turned by Volrina Quarra herself is something to which all in House Quarra aspires," she explains. "The fact that you came along and received the gift so easily is not going to sit well with them. The ceremony in which you have just participated marks you as my property."

"Your _property_?"

"Only within these walls," she clarifies. "As my property, you shall be protected from harm. The ring you wear upon your finger will keep you safe during your time in this place."

I look down at the ring on my finger, still a noticeably heavy weight.

"Did you rescue me from Rigmor Half-Hand?" I ask.

She nods.

"Were you the figure on the hill in Suran?"

Again, she provides me with confirmation.

"Why did you turn me?"

For the moment, her stately countenance fails, and she looks uncomfortable.

"I wanted to give myself a fair chance," she answers.

"A fair chance?"

She does not explain her response further. Instead, she asks me something.

"Have you made up your mind as to what you're going to do, Ithaca?"

I look into the woman's eyes, but her expression is unreadable.

"I am still not certain," I answer. "Even if I am cured, the Legion will follow me wherever I go."

She nods solemnly. "Ithaca," she begins slowly, as if carefully choosing her words, "why do you not just stay here with me?"

"With vampires?" I scoff reflexively, and I can see in her eyes that she has taken offence.

"Need I remind you, Ithaca," she says. "You are no different from any of us here."

"Not if you help me," I say.

"Perhaps I already have," she responds.

"What do you mean?"

"What exactly does the mortal world have to offer you that we cannot?"

It takes me longer to come with an answer than I expect. I manage it, though. "Light."

She waves her hand dismissively. "You miss it less than you think you will."

"What exactly are the pros here?" I ask her. "Why do you remain a vampire when a cure is right there for the taking?"

Her glowing eyes narrow. "It is not. Molag Bal is not easily swayed."

"You didn't answer my question."

"There are many reasons," she says defensively. "Perhaps the biggest one for you is that, by remaining here with us, you will ensure that the rest of your days will most certainly be an adventure. Boredom will not touch you here."

"Spending the rest of eternity within these dark halls is not my idea of an adventure, Ellory," I say.

"Who said anything about staying inside these walls?"

"What do you mean?"

Ellory rises, her queenly manner standing in stark contrast to the small, lithe Imperial woman I once knew. "Come with me."

The vampire walks me through the passages of Nchuleft until we reach a door with a set of runes set into the wall above. The runes glow and flash a furious shade of red, something that ceases the moment Ellory touches the handle.

A single basic chair sits in the middle of this room, in front of a large, curved glass dome set into the far wall. Through this transparent dome, I can see the night sky. When we move closer, I can see the Grazelands underneath that sky.

On those rolling hills beyond the ruins, I see something I never expected to see.

It is an army, perhaps a hundred strong, camping just outside. Their flags and armour are unmistakable: these men are Imperial Legion.

I turn to Ellory, almost hysteric. "How?"

Sellus Gravius," she answers. "He followed us here, then informed Varus Vantinius of our location."

"How do you know?" I ask, incredulous.

"One of my lookouts saw him far away on one of the shallow hills, observing our arrival. That lookout followed him back to Tel Vos and into the Imperial fort there. We can infer the rest."

I turn back to the army outside. I cannot believe that the Legion was able to muster such a force in such a short amount of time. Varus Vantinius must really want this place. "Would Sellus really betray us?"

"Betrayal suggests that he was allied to us in the first place," Ellory answers.

"I don't think Sellus has any allies anymore." I push away from the window. "What do we do now?"

"There is an alternate exit to this place that will take us out into the ashlands," Ellory explains. "By the time the front door is breached, we will be gone."

"What if the Imperials know about that as well?"

"They do not."

"Where will we be going after this?" I ask her, a jolt of both fear and exhilaration running through me.

"West," she answers simply.

"Not going to give me anymore?"

She gives me a consoling look. "Not as yet."

Outside, one of the soldiers catches my eye. He wears armour that is different from the others, and my sharp, vampiric eyes allow me to recognise the figure immediately. It is Varus Vantinius himself.

"If I decide to cure myself of vampirism, will you help me?"

"It would be the least I could do,."

Relief washes over me. "And if I decide to remain a vampire, what will happen to me?"

"You will always have a place among Clan Quarra," she answers, "as well as all the adventure and wonder that you could only hope to experience in that tiny, speck on the map called Seyda Neen."

I smile at the repetition of my words.

"And us?" I ask her. "What will become of us?"

Ellory, Volrina Quarra, the Queen of Clan Quarra, then takes a step toward me. She is close, close enough for me to feel the warmth of her body that I didn't expect would be there. "That is entirely up to you."

I gaze back out of the window, at the army at our door.

Then, I give her my answer.


End file.
